


incarnadine

by inkin_brushes



Series: Incarnadine (Vamp AU redux) [1]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Magic, Slow Burn, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, suggestions of polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 271,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkin_brushes/pseuds/inkin_brushes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taekwoon had always found the adaptability of humans amazing, though he’d never found himself to be the best at it. And he wouldn’t have thought he’d be able to live this way, with a silent heart and blood in his mouth. (Or the one in which Taekwoon is the hunter, and Hakyeon is the monster).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stares out the window. sighs. yes. this is another vampire au. a terrible person i am friends with asked me what would have happened if the roles in [immortals](http://archiveofourown.org/series/425302) had been reversed, and everyone who’d started the fic as a human was vampire, and vice versa. the answer is things would have gone differently.
> 
> you dont have to have read the original au to read this fic, the world set up of this au is in line with immortals, but there are going to be a few differences, things i wanted to change, so im gonna be re-explaining everything prolly. also, i have no idea how long this is going to be B| not as long as immortals. iM SORRY.

Taekwoon had always found the adaptability of humans amazing, though he’d never found himself to be the best at it. And he wouldn’t have thought he’d be able to live this way, with a silent heart and blood in his mouth.

But perhaps he should start at the beginning.

——

“Are we going out tonight?” Taekwoon asked, not looking up from his phone. His fingertip nudged at the air bubbles under the screen protector as he scrolled through the headlines. 

Hongbin straightened from where he’d been bent over, rummaging through the meager contents of their fridge. “I’m kinda tired,” he said, shutting the refrigerator door despite having only retrieved a can of beer. Taekwoon took a second to eye it disapprovingly before lowering his eyes again.

“There’s been a spike of activity downtown,” Taekwoon muttered, closing out of the article he’d been skimming. He set his phone aside and looked up as Hongbin sat down in the chair opposite him, taking in the dark circles smudged purple under his large eyes, the sharpened angles of his face. “We haven’t gone out in a while.”

The sound the beer can made as it met their table gave the wood away as being nothing more than thin plywood, cheap and flimsy. Hongbin opened the tab one handed, almost absently. “We’ve been working,” he said, taking a swig of the beer and then making a face. Taekwoon wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. “Don’t want our electricity to get shut off again.” Hongbin grinned, the motion as sharp as the lines of his jaw, no amusement at all.

No, losing their electricity hadn’t been fun. Taekwoon hummed, flipping his phone over, fidgeting in thought. “I get paid tomorrow,” he said, sighing it out and rubbing his free hand over his face. Working in a cafe walked an effortless line of being both exhausting and absolutely boring, and the pay was underwhelming, but with Hongbin only supplementing the house’s budget with his own part time salary from the local grocery store, Taekwoon couldn’t exactly be picky. They were scraping by, as best they could. And both of them just conveniently ignored their two bedroom home slowly falling apart around their ears. At least those charms Jaehwan had strung up had gotten rid of the roaches. 

Hongbin was looking to the window, at the sky that was darkening to a rich plum that pleasantly matched Hongbin’s dark circles "Let me rest for a bit," he finally muttered, fingertip tracing over the top of the beer can, "then we’ll go out." He slid a glance at Taekwoon. "Don’t the runes on your knife need sprucing up? Go ask Jae to work on that, once he’s done we’ll head out."

Taekwoon stood, hand instinctively going to rest on the hilt of his dagger, hanging from his belt. The moment Hongbin had come home and seen the leather holster at Taekwoon’s hip, he should have known what was going to be asked of him. "I think Jaehwan’s busy," Taekwoon whispered, mostly to himself.

The door to their pantry was closed, and when Taekwoon walked over and pulled it open, he found the red light inside was on, shining dimly and illuminating mostly empty shelves. A few plastic spice containers stood here and there, their lids covered in a fine film of dust. Taekwoon used to like cooking, he just so rarely had the time and money anymore.

He glared up at the red light, eyes narrowing. "Busy," he muttered to himself, but he tapped on the floor of the pantry with his toes, knocking in a roundabout way.

It took a minute, but then the red light turned off, and Taekwoon flicked the normal switch, squinting at the sudden watery yellow light coming off the main bulb. He backed up out of the pantry so that when Jaehwan pushed, the hatch in the floor could swing open unhindered. Jaehwan peered up at Taekwoon, squinting himself and not bothering to come all the way up and out. "What?" he asked, one eye closed. "I’m busy."

"Sleeping does not count as busy," Taekwoon reminded him softly, and Jaehwan yawned. "I need to come down."

Jaehwan muttered something unintelligible but he sank back down, leaving the hatch in the floor open as he descended the stairs to the basement, and Taekwoon followed him carefully. He closed the hatch above himself once he was down far enough to do so, all the light disappearing once the door was sealed. His feet met bare concrete flooring, and the chill of it made him shiver.

In the darkness Taekwoon heard shuffling and then a click, and the tiny basement room flooded with light, bright and unfiltered from bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Jaehwan’s hand fell away from the switch in the wall in favor of rubbing at his eyes. He _had_ been sleeping, the mess of rumpled blankets on his narrow bed proof of it, even if the creases on the side of his face hadn’t given him away.

The rest of the room was tidy, as tidy as it could be when it was so cluttered, full. Packed with cardboard boxes against the walls as both storage and furniture, thin shelving bolted into the walls sagging under the weight of jars upon jars filled with— _stuff_. From the corner of the room Jaehwan’s mini-fridge kicked on, emitting a low hum, and Taekwoon looked at it, wondering if it was as empty as the main fridge upstairs. He’d get food tomorrow, after he got paid.

"What’s up?" Jaehwan asked, still rubbing the bleariness from his eyes. He leaned on his desk, making the various glass containers balanced near the edges clink together. The one labelled _cat toes_ looked likely to fall off, so Taekwoon came over beside Jaehwan to set it more firmly back on the desk. He was only slightly surprised when Jaehwan leaned into him, tucking his head against Taekwoon’s shoulder. Touch could be an iffy thing, with Jaehwan.

Taekwoon carefully wrapped his arm around Jaehwan’s narrow shoulders, found him cold through his shirt.

"Are you worse?" Taekwoon murmured. He always thought Hongbin looked spread thin, wrists delicate and waist far too narrow, but then he’d set eyes on Jaehwan after not seeing him for a few days. Jaehwan, who was dissipating like smoke in a breeze, skin paper white and dark hair greying at the temples. He seemed thinner, smaller, _less_ , every time Taekwoon saw him anew, and Taekwoon wasn’t sure Jaehwan could lose much more of himself before he disappeared entirely, vanished into bones and then dust. His clothes hung off him in a way that made Taekwoon feel vaguely sick. 

Jaehwan shook his head, rubbing against Taekwoon’s shoulder. “I’m up and down, the usual. I just need sleep,” he said, pulling back to look up at Taekwoon’s face and smiling that lopsided smile of his. Taekwoon’s chest ached. “You don’t look like a bouquet of daisies either.”

“I never did,” Taekwoon pointed out solemnly, knowing the self-deprecation would amuse Jaehwan and cover up the unspoken, _Not like you_. Because that was it, wasn’t it. Maybe if Jaehwan had always been like this— but he hadn’t. 

Jaehwan laughed, and it made Taekwoon’s face so warm, his mouth curling in helpless response. “True,” Jaehwan agreed, eyes sparkling in his sallow face. “We can’t all look like me, I suppose.”

Taekwoon’s eyes traced over Jaehwan’s features. The standing mirror in the corner of the room was covered by one of their old sheets, it was probable Jaehwan didn’t even know what he looked like anymore. Even if he did know, he’d always been full of false bravado. Anything to keep smiling. Anything to keep Taekwoon and Hongbin smiling. 

Jaehwan could probably guess his line of thinking, because he briskly moved them on. "I know you didn’t come here to gaze upon my sleepy visage,” he said, “so what is it, Taekwoon?"

Taekwoon stepped away, fingertips trailing over Jaehwan’s spine before he brought his hand to rest on his belt. "My dagger has been feeling a bit buzzy lately, and holding it sometimes makes my fingers go a little numb," Taekwoon said, tugging the dagger out of its holster and holding it, handle first, towards Jaehwan.

At his words Jaehwan’s nose scrunched up, and he took the dagger gingerly. "That is somewhat counterproductive," he said, bringing the silver blade near his face so as to examine the runes. "I’ll touch this up right now, give me like an hour."

Taekwoon eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure you’re—"

"I’m fine," Jaehwan snapped, and Taekwoon could feel the words crackling, energy jolting through the air. "Reapplying some runes won't kill me, and if I fritz out, that’s what those are for." He jerked his head towards the wall, and Taekwoon didn’t have to look to know he was talking about the runes painted onto the walls, the ceiling, for both Jaehwan’s safety and their own.

Taekwoon could have snapped back, but he just didn’t have it in him tonight. The argument was too well-worn, by now. "If it’s too much, you don’t have to do it right now," he muttered and turned away before Jaehwan could lay into the speech about how fine he was, he was so very fine, there was nothing wrong, he lived in a charmed basement for no reason at all.

Taekwoon climbed the steps back up into the pantry, knocking his shoulder against the frame of the hatch as he squeezed himself out. The red light was back on before he’d even managed to close the hatch behind himself.

——

Jaehwan rolled his ritual cloth out over the cold concrete of his floor, his movements slow with weariness, limbs heavy. He didn’t have it in him to go the whole nine yards tonight, choosing instead to place a candle at the northernmost point of the pentagram sewn in white thread onto his cloth. He used a match to light the candle and then sat in the center of the star, placing a large chunk of hematite in his lap, and knew it and the candle would ground him well enough.

He held Taekwoon’s silver blade between his palms, piecing through the different runes. They were all his, familiar and comfortable. Their energy buzzed against his skin, the magic reaching out, knowing their source.

It was the rune for good aim, to guide Taekwoon’s hand and drive the blade into vampire hearts, that had begun to unravel, coming apart round the edges. Jaehwan hadn’t applied it all that long ago, but he could never make things stick as well as they should anymore. His spells were always potent, but like a candle that blazed too brightly it shortened their lifespans.

"Here, little one," he whispered, summoning what energy he could, humming the words to give the spell new life, stitching the fraying edges back together. The magic coursed through him, like something living, hot, painful, in his veins. It was a little spell, so the discomfort didn’t last, and once the rune glowed anew he let the magic slip deep inside himself again, a sea retreating after a wave. It went back to being a general itch under his skin, no longer writhing among his insides like a beast struggling for escape.

He put the blade aside, trembling, and braced himself on the floor for a moment as a wave of dizziness overcame him. A bead of sweat trickled down from his hairline, and he inhaled deeply, fighting off the urge to faint.

It was ridiculous, he should be able to touch up a rune without such depletion, and the exhaustion only made him angry. He could do so much, if his body would stop being such a damn sieve, would hold onto the energy his body generated instead of feeding the parasite in his veins, breathing fire into it and killing him, slowly, cruelly. The human body wasn’t meant to have energy sparking around like this, roiling and foreign.

But he’d turned his body into a vessel, and there was no undoing it.

"Fuck," he gasped, gagging on a wave of nausea, magic flaring through him in a sharp stab, and somewhere behind him, a jar shattered.

Jaehwan closed his eyes and hoped it was one of the herb jars and not the damn salamander tails. Those things were expensive.

——

"Where was the most recent attack?" Hongbin murmured from the passenger seat of Taekwoon’s well used Pontiac. He had a canvas cloth spread out in his lap, ink lines representing city streets sunk into the fabric.

Taekwoon didn’t take his eyes off the road as he reached over, passing his hand above the cloth map. Two pinpricks of red light flared up after the motion, spotting the map.

Hongbin took it in silently, eyes tracing over the locations. "And the recently triggered runes?" he asked, voice still soft.

Again, Taekwoon took his right hand off the wheel to pass it over the map. This time blue lights flared up, considerably more than the red, marking every concealed rune they’d placed over the city, spray painted on buildings, carved into lamp posts. The ones that had recently been in close proximity to a vampire glowed brighter, dotted around the recent attacks. A hunting zone, a vampire lair somewhere around.

"The hot zone isn’t that wide," Hongbin said, and he grinned at Taekwoon, who caught the edge of the smile in his peripheral vision. "We should be able to get it."

Taekwoon nodded shortly. He never shared Hongbin’s giddiness; they seemed to have fundamental differences at their cores around hunting. It was a high, for Hongbin, as well as an outlet. He seemed to just need to kill something every once in awhile. And so long as he stuck to vampires, maybe the occasional demon, Taekwoon wasn’t going to dissect it.

But hunting was so much more, for Taekwoon. He knew the grief and suffering vampires brought, knew it like a festering wound. And he cared too much to look the other way when he could _do_ something about it. 

Make no mistake, he wasn’t a fool; he couldn’t wipe out every sucker in existence, he knew this very well. But he could very well do his damndest to keep them at least out of his immediate ten mile radius. To bring some modicum of safety to those around him, to let them live in peace.

"We’re coming up on one of the recently triggered runes," Hongbin said, pointing to a mailbox in the distance.

Taekwoon swerved in, parking the car in front of a meter he had no intention of feeding. It was after dark, no one was going to check it. "We’ll walk," he said softly, "the area is tight enough, and the scent trail will be better if we’re on foot."

Hongbin heaved a sigh but got out of the car. Taekwoon took a second to collect himself, breathing in deeply, before he too got out.

It was a quiet night, chilly with winter rapidly approaching, but the streets weren’t empty because of the weather. They were empty because inside, home, was the safest place to be. They didn’t get a lot of suckers in their city, but at the same time, they didn’t have a Vampire Control Forces unit based out here because of it. There was no one — officially — patrolling the streets at night. And Taekwoon understood; they didn’t get enough attacks to warrant the funding, such things were better off directed at the larger metropolises sitting on the coast. The cities that were infested with the undead, dozens upon dozens of bodies heaping up every month.

They didn’t have that problem, with their lower population, had one or two attacks per month, maybe three if activity was unusually high. It was enough to keep people inside after dark, but not truly a _problem_. And Taekwoon intended for it to stay that way. 

A streetlight buzzed loudly above their heads, flickering slightly, and Taekwoon rolled his shoulders, beginning to walk. Hongbin fell into step at his side. 

Their rune was hidden under a tutoring ad, plastered over the side of a public mailbox, but it was there, and it was awake, Taekwoon could feel that it was still rippling with activity. The hit was only a few days old. He touched his fingertips to the cold metal of the mailbox, then looked at Hongbin, waiting.

Hongbin stepped closer to his side, reaching around Taekwoon’s middle, under his jacked, to grasp the hilt of the dagger hanging at Taekwoon’s side. "I hate this part," Hongbin muttered, but he still had that spark of excitement to him. He pulled the dagger free of its hilt and stepped back, the silver gleaming yellow in the sickly lamplight.

In truth, Taekwoon hated this part too. They were going too far, but he didn’t know what else to do. It was illegal, it was all illegal, so there weren’t exactly handbooks on rogue vampire hunting. They did what they could, with what they had.

Taekwoon watched as Hongbin rolled up his sleeve, exposing countless scars, short horizontal marks trailing up the inside of his forearm. Hongbin didn’t even react as he drew the blade over his skin, quick and efficient. He held the dagger out handle first for Taekwoon, who took it as the blood welled up. Once Hongbin’s hand was free of the blade he drew his first two fingers over the wound, collecting the blood on his fingertips before smearing it in a thick line across his throat, like a slit in his neck.

Hongbin didn’t look at him as he said, "Don’t make that face." He turned away from Taekwoon and ran his hand along the brick wall of a building, leaving smudges of blood in his wake. The energy that simmered off him was subtle, but then, the spell in Hongbin’s veins wasn’t meant for him.

Taekwoon didn’t say anything, watched as Hongbin walked off, towards the next active rune, before quietly following.

——

It was useless to crouch in shadows when vampires could see into the deepest darkness, useless to hide when they could hear a heartbeat from a block away when they cared to listen for it. But Taekwoon still knelt at the mouth of an alleyway, back to the wall of a closed cafe, sticking to the shadows. Anything less felt cocky, felt like an invitation. And this gave him an illusion of security, if nothing else.

Across the street was another alleyway, a mirror of Taekwoon’s, and Hongbin loitered beside it, lamplight casting him into flat planes of yellow. He was smoking, fiddling with his phone, one of those habits perpetually getting on Taekwoon’s nerves. It wasn’t too obvious a set-up per se, there were apartments above some of these businesses and the weather wasn’t frigid yet, maybe someone could be persuaded to go outside for a smoke. The sweetened scent of Hongbin’s blood would make for too much of a temptation even if the scene was an obvious one.

Taekwoon didn’t touch his phone, crouched until his calf began to cramp, and still he didn’t move. The silver cross earring dangling from his left ear began to hum with energy, and he touched it gently, feeling the warmth of the metal against his skin. Soon, then. He shifted, just a little, to regain the blood flow in his feet, but he didn’t stand yet.

They never heard them, never saw them coming. The only warning came from the prickling at their napes, the warming of their charms. Hongbin was standing in sallow lamplight one moment, then there were hands reaching out from the darkness and Hongbin was yanked backwards in the next moment, into the alleyway at his back. His cry of surprise echoed hauntingly off the buildings, the cigarette rolling gently across the pavement, still lit.

Taekwoon stood, counting the seconds off in his head. This, this was the part of it he hated most. But they knew no other way. As with so many things. His heart pounded, the sound of it thick in his own ears, and when the silver earring pinged at him he took off, feeling the strength in his own legs as he ran across the street, drawing his dagger out as he moved. It was hot against his palm, shimmering with anticipatory, violent energy that matched the hard knot of emotion in Taekwoon’s gut.

The alleyway was dark, and for a flash Taekwoon saw the vampire’s back, its clothed humanoid shape. The shudder that ran through him was pure instinct, his face going cold as the core of him told him he should be running away, not closer, never closer. He squeezed his dagger so hard his fingertips were going numb with it, and it sizzled with energy, sparking jerkily up his arm.

The sucker had pinned Hongbin against the side of the building that made up one wall of the alleyway, head bent to Hongbin’s neck. But Taekwoon was loud, his footfalls, his heartbeat, the sound of his breathing, and the vampire ripped itself away from Hongbin to snarl at Taekwoon, fangs extended and lips smeared with Hongbin’s blood. 

But the motion wasn’t as controlled as it should have been, the vampire overshooting and wavering, just a little. Taekwoon caught the flash of surprise that passed over its features, then confusion that blackened to anger. Too late. It was too late, it was in the bear trap now, the jagged halves secured not with a violent snap but with a slow deliberateness. Taekwoon just had to be careful, because the creature still had teeth, and trapped animals fought harder. 

The vampire’s face settled into hard lines, brown hair swaying in front of angry eyes. It spat the remnants of Hongbin’s blood onto the pavement, as if that would make a difference. Braced against the wall, the vampire’s arm on his shoulder, Hongbin began to laugh. 

The stillness broke, the vampire whirling on Hongbin, but Taekwoon was there, kicking the creature hard in the stomach. It stumbled back with an inarticulate sound of rage before regaining its footing and lunging forward, one hand grabbing at Taekwoon’s wrist, the hand holding the dagger, and the other going for his throat. The impact hurt, and the fingers closing around his windpipe were strong, but not as strong as they had been, the poison in Hongbin’s blood weakening it from the inside already.

Taekwoon twisted his hand free, the dagger blade catching on the vampire’s forearm and sending out a shockwave of energy that it wrenched from Taekwoon’s bones. The vampire screamed, falling back, and Taekwoon himself felt the loss of energy, like the breath had been stolen from his lungs. He let himself fall after the vampire, bringing the dagger down towards its chest. The runes over the blade guided the swing, and the dagger slid between the vampire’s ribs, into its heart, and the pulse of energy that rippled out from its death, its true death, made Taekwoon gag.

He shoved himself off the body, leaving the dagger buried in the vampire’s chest. His hand was burning.

The asphalt was hard and gritty at Taekwoon’s back, the stars dim from the city’s lights above him. He breathed deeply, slowly, trying to stop his own shaking, to stave off the nausea rolling around in his stomach. He had that acidic tang in his mouth, from overdone magic, too much energy skittering over his skin.

Hongbin was shuffling, his shoes scraping against the pavement. "That went well," he said, a slight pant in his voice. His hand was pressed at the junction of his neck and shoulder, where he’d been bitten. 

Taekwoon closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the cloyingly sweet scent of vampire magic, and then he rolled over and wrenched his dagger free.

——

Jaehwan was tucked comfortably into the corner of the couch, mind pleasantly on a low hum as the television played an action movie on mute. On the coffee table at his side, his copy of _Spells: Forwards Then Back_ lay open, and atop it the watermilfoil he’d laid out was shrivelling in the air, curling into itself.

The wards on the house shifted, awakening and sending out small pulses of energy, and it brought Jaehwan out of his vague doze. He cocked his head to the side, casting his senses out, feeling, but it was just Taekwoon and Hongbin returning. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the hum of the car’s engine, and then the quiet as it cut out.

"I’m here," Jaehwan called out as the front door opened. It took a few seconds but then Hongbin was there, grinning over the back of the couch. He was bloody, as usual. "Do you need stitches? Or an awakening potion to shake off the glamour? You’re showing too many teeth."

"No on both counts, though I will need to borrow one of your turtlenecks tomorrow," Hongbin said, tilting his head delicately to show the unmistakable vampire bites dug into his pale skin. They were still seeping blood slightly.

It was not something Jaehwan particularly liked the sight of. He wrinkled his nose, sitting up on his knees to examine the wounds. The skin around the bites was reddened, and when Jaehwan touched it gently he found it very warm. "Sloppy, must have been a young one. I’ll get some salve for you."

Jaehwan moved back, standing up from the couch. As he headed towards the pantry he met Taekwoon, who, in juxtaposition to Hongbin, was always very subdued after hunts. Jaehwan passed his hand over Taekwoon’s chest, felt the energy loss. Taekwoon caught his wrist, grip firm but gentle.

"You okay?" Jaehwan asked, looking up at Taekwoon’s face, the pale cheeks and wrinkled brow.

"Mm," Taekwoon murmured, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a little glass vial which he pressed into Jaehwan’s hand. "Thank you."

Jaehwan looked away, holding the vial to his chest and nodding jerkily. "It’s good you didn’t need to use it," he said softly, and then scurried past Taekwoon before he could answer. Taekwoon let him go silently.

Once he was back in his dim basement, Jaehwan went to his little sink, chipped porcelain and rust. He looked down at the vial for a moment before he unstoppered it, and poured the contents down the drain. He turned the water on so the blood went down easier. Already the energy was seeping out of it. Blood never kept, it always had to be fresh. Especially when it was Jaehwan’s blood, which seemed to fade so much faster.

He rinsed the vial out and then put it aside to dry for next time, fingers lingering on the glass for a moment.

"Everything okay down there?" Hongbin called from the kitchen, and Jaehwan started.

"Yeah," Jaehwan replied, and he grabbed the salve off his desk, premade for precisely this, and headed back upstairs. He would tend to Hongbin, and then the three of them would get what rest they could. 

——

The sunlight held that sort of crisp, fresh quality to it that belied the youth of the day. It streamed through the floor length windows, falling in beams and casting sharp shadows.

Taekwoon sat on the tall stool behind the cash register, scrolling through the news on his phone. He fought off the urge to crack a yawn. They had a few customers in and it wouldn’t do to look quite that bored. It wasn’t as if he could tell people he’d been up until about four hours ago hunting a vampire. Killing a vampire. 

The accomplishment of a successful hunt still rang through his body, but a morning shift following it did, Taekwoon had to admit, dampen it. As did the knowledge that Hongbin was probably going to be irritable later, having a shift of his own to get through. He dealt with sleep deprivation with even less grace than Taekwoon. 

At least Jaehwan would probably be chipper tonight, when they got home. But Jaehwan was in the ground for the day, resting, sleeping. If Taekwoon slept as much as he did, he’d probably be in a perpetual good mood too. 

The bell over the front door jingled, heralding the arrival of one of their late morning regulars. Taekwoon slid off the stool and tucked his phone into the front pocket of his apron so he could greet her. She was a young woman his age, quite pretty, her hair always modestly smoothed back into a ponytail. Taekwoon thought she must have some kind of tutoring job; she always seemed to be heading towards the local campus.

He let his eyes trace over the expanse of her collarbones, bared in the scooped-neck blouse she was wearing, before meeting her eyes. He didn’t smile, not really, just let the corners of his lips hint at curling, and murmured, “Hello.” Girls liked his silence, the touch of coldness. He didn't understand it, but he certainly wasn’t going to question it when it worked.

“Hi,” she replied shyly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture. She looked away from his eyes. “The usual?”

Taekwoon hummed, putting in her usual order — soy green tea latte — and taking her money silently. She scuttled away to wait for her drink, and Taekwoon let himself enjoy making it, the familiarity of the motions comforting, almost. He liked putting drinks in colorful mugs, drawing designs in the foam. It was just something simple, to get him through the hours spent here. 

But he couldn’t indulge in such things with the to-go orders. He simply poured it into a paper cup, popped a lid on it, and drew a rune over the top of it. It was a rune for keeping drinks hot, Jaehwan had taught him, even if Taekwoon had no magic in him for it to work. It was habit, and Taekwoon liked the idea that the thought counted. He handed the drink to her with something more of a genuine smile, and she thanked him and left.

Her fingers had brushed his when she took the drink, and he flexed his hand, remembering the weight of a dagger’s hilt.

——

Hongbin hated his job.

His boss was a kindly sort of older gentleman, and their customer base was made up mostly of middle aged mothers and elderly grandmotherly types who just thought Hongbin was a darling, in his pressed green apron, his princely handsome face, sorting through shipments of flowers and produce. Hongbin felt compelled to smile so hard his dimples seemed to be drilling holes into him.

He could have it worse, he knew. The fact that it was a smaller local business meant he was treated more like a breathing, sentient creature than the sort of mechanical impersonal sort of labor he’d be put through if he worked for a large chain. And he got paid decently and never got yelled at for not tending to the fruits with as much care as he probably should.

“I will destroy you,” Hongbin whispered at an apple as it tumbled off the display, his smile never wavering. He was decidedly irritable today. The turtleneck he’d borrowed from Jaehwan was itching like a bitch, but he couldn’t afford anyone seeing even bandages on his neck. The last thing he needed was to be mistaken for a feeder. He had enough scars for it to be hard to protest such an accusation if it ever came at him.

It was nearing the end of his shift by the time Taekwoon came in, having just gotten off his shift himself. “Slow day?” Taekwoon asked, walking by Hongbin and pushing a cart with a squeaky wheel.

Hongbin paused in his restocking of cheap packaged cheese, his fingers cold from handling the products. “The usual,” he said simply, eyes skittering over the contents of Taekwoon’s cart. “You got paid?”

Taekwoon nodded. “I’m going to make chicken parmesan tonight,” he murmured, and Hongbin’s stomach gave a gurgle.

“Will you wait for me to get off? I only have like twenty minutes and I don’t feel like walking home.”

“Are you alright?” Taekwoon asked, eyes maybe a little too assessing, lingering a little too long on Hongbin’s neck.

Hongbin went back to stocking cheese. “I’m fine, Taek.”

After a moment Hongbin felt a nudge on his ass, and when he turned to scowl at Taekwoon, he found Taekwoon’s eyes shining mischievously. “Will you come ring me up then? I want that employee discount.” Taekwoon offered him a small smile, and the silver cross earring dangling from his left ear glinted in the fluorescents.

——

They got home just before the sun began to set, so while Taekwoon cooked the light coming into the kitchen went pink and sharp, tendrils coming through the window over the sink and making the floating dust motes gold.

He sang under his breath as he moved around the kitchen, mood much improved now that he was home. A vampire was dead, and Taekwoon had gotten paid, and they were going to eat well. 

Hongbin still seemed a bit sour, but maybe less so, as he dodged around Taekwoon for a few minutes, putting the groceries away. After Hongbin was done with that task he went into the living room, probably to take a small nap before dinner. He always seemed so exhausted after work, not really proportional to his job. Taekwoon suspected it took a lot out of him; Hongbin wasn’t good at emotionally bearing things he disliked so much. It wore on him. This wasn’t what he’d wanted, what he’d hoped for.

Through school Hongbin had wanted to go into the Vampire Control Forces, but he hadn’t had the money for the academy, and had maybe a bit too much enthusiasm for the people running the scholarship programs. The people in the VCF needed to be brave and willing, not fanatically homicidal. Or recklessly suicidal.

And then Hongbin hadn’t had the funds to get himself away, to go to university on his own terms. It had been hard enough to get him out of— well. He still had plenty of time, Taekwoon kept telling him, to save up, to do something more. But he’d say he couldn’t go, not now. Not after Jaehwan.

Though he’d never say it where Jaehwan could hear.

Taekwoon eyed the pantry door. He had a sneaking suspicion Jaehwan was awake, was waiting for it to be safe. It wouldn’t be long now. The wards of the house were stirring as the light faded.

He put the dish of breaded chicken breasts into their old oven and then set about tidying up his mess. By the time the ingredients had been put back and the countertop wiped down the sun was fully set, the sky a gunmetal grey. Taekwoon went to the pantry, noted the red light was off. He knelt to knock sharply on the floor, calling out, “Jaehwan, the sun is down, and I’m making dinner.”

He didn’t wait for a reply before walking out of the pantry, leaving the door open behind him. It barely took any time for Jaehwan to come out, hair brushed for once, sweatpants and t-shirt loose on his slim frame.

Taekwoon pointed at the small collection of food on the rickety kitchen table— cereal, a half gallon of milk, chips, bread, lunch meat, frozen pizzas, among other things. “That’s for you to take down,” he said, and Jaehwan made a small noise of glee, grabbing at the various packages.

“What’s for dinner?” Jaehwan asked as he precariously made his way back towards the pantry with his spoils stacked high in his arms. “It smells good.”

“You’re going to drop your baloney,” Taekwoon muttered, snagging the slipping food out of Jaehwan’s arms. He grabbed the milk too, leading the way back to the pantry.

Jaehwan huffed a little, mostly in affectation, but he let Taekwoon guide him back into the basement, didn’t protest the balancing hand on his lower back. He felt warmer tonight.

“You look less like a corpse,” Taekwoon said, watching as Jaehwan put the cereal and chips on the top of his fridge, the frozen pizzas inside it. It was true; his face had more color, dark circles a bit lessened.

Jaehwan shut the refrigerator door theatrically, putting his hands over his heart. “Are you trying to woo me with such sweet words? Keep it up and the panties will drop before long.” Jaehwan laughed when Taekwoon glowered at him, cheeks warming unpleasantly.

“You and I both know you don’t need any wooing for that,” Taekwoon muttered, putting the milk and baloney down on Jaehwan’s workbench, knowing Jaehwan hated food being in proximity to his herb jars.

“Alas, my reputation precedes me,” Jaehwan said. He breezed by, grabbing the milk and baloney, winking at Taekwoon as he did so. “Do I need to give you another lecture on why you shouldn’t put dairy products near dried candy caps?”

Taekwoon eyed a nearby jar. There were caramel colored mushroom pieces in it. “No,” he muttered, running a fingertip through the water the milk jug left behind on the wooden bench. His finger came up black from soot. “Chicken parmesan.”

“Hmm?” Jaehwan asked, his head half in his fridge.

“I’m making chicken parmesan for dinner.”

Jaehwan made a delighted little noise. “It’s always a good night, when you cook.” No matter how much Jaehwan adored magic, Taekwoon knew food would always Jaehwan‘s one true love. “Oh, and thank you,” he added, suddenly shy. “For, you know, resupplying me.”

Taekwoon felt himself soften, a little, stomach twisting. “Tell me, when you’re getting low, or if there’s anything you need,” he said softly, and Jaehwan looked away, feet scuffing on the concrete.

“I don’t really have the right to ask,” Jaehwan whispered, and sometimes Taekwoon wanted to shake him. But he was afraid Jaehwan would rattle, or shake apart, like a battered doll.

Taekwoon stepped forward, considering at the least making Jaehwan look at him, but Jaehwan anticipated it and scurried out of arm’s reach. Taekwoon stopped, the corners of his mouth going tight. “You always have a right to ask,” he whispered.

There was the soft sound of footfalls above their heads— Hongbin. Jaehwan looked up, seeming relieved. “Our child is awake,” Jaehwan said. He turned, going back up the stairs. “Come on, we must make sure he doesn’t get ahold of any pointy things.”

Taekwoon held back from reminding Jaehwan that he and Hongbin were only two years apart. It was an old joke that Jaehwan would never let die. And Taekwoon was loathe to take anything from Jaehwan, if it made him happy.

The three of them ate dinner in the living room, which wasn’t Taekwoon’s first choice, but there was some superhero movie Jaehwan wanted to watch coming on. Hongbin sat on the floor, using the coffee table to eat off of, while Taekwoon and Jaehwan leaned on opposite ends of the couch, plates in their laps. Taekwoon opted to remain sitting upright, but Jaehwan lounged across the cushions, half laying down. His legs stretched across the couch so his feet were touching Taekwoon’s thigh, socked toes wiggling against Taekwoon’s jeans.

“Who’s going to do the dishes?” Taekwoon asked softly, his voice barely cutting through the cacophony of artificial explosions happening on screen.

Jaehwan raised one leg, flailing it in the air. “Not it,” he called.

Hongbin got up and collected their plates, bitching while he did it, but it was good natured bitching. If bitching could ever be good natured.

“Chores build character,” Jaehwan said wisely, settling back into the couch cushions once Hongbin was in the kitchen.

Taekwoon grunted, which Jaehwan took as a perfectly reasonable response. After a time, Taekwoon let his hand rest on Jaehwan’s ankle, thumb swiping against the skin exposed from his pant leg riding up. It was an iffy thing, skin to skin contact, but Jaehwan only mildly fizzed, like a flat soda. It made sense. He was having a good night.

Taekwoon still had the scar from the bad night.

Hongbin took a while to return, uninterested in the movie. He and Taekwoon had already seen it in theaters a few months prior, an early afternoon showing, so Jaehwan hadn’t been able to come. When Hongbin did come back his sweater sleeves were still rolled up, hands pink from the hot water.

“I put the leftovers away too,” he murmured, sitting back on the floor beside Taekwoon’s feet. He glanced at Jaehwan. “He’s out already.”

Taekwoon flicked a glance at Jaehwan, saw his head was lolled back, mouth slightly open. “Mm.”

“He looks dead,” Hongbin said, not entirely joking.

Taekwoon’s hand tightened reflexively on Jaehwan’s bony ankle. “He isn’t. He’s still fizzing.”

Hongbin was frowning slightly, a soft hitch between his brows. After a long pause, he murmured, “He sleeps too much, Taekwoon.”

Jaehwan snuffled, rolling over a little and bringing his legs up, curling them towards his chest so his ankle slipped out of Taekwoon’s hand. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him,” Taekwoon said. “He’s— he’ll get a bit better, as winter settles in.”

Hongbin leaned back, his head knocking painfully against Taekwoon’s knee. Taekwoon put his hand over Hongbin’s hair, gentle.

Hongbin batted his hand away. “You don’t have to coddle me,” he snapped. “You and Jaehwan always talk when I’m not around. I don’t know what you think you’re protecting me from. We all know he’s dying.”

“Maybe we’re not talking,” Taekwoon said neutrally, refusing to let himself get riled. His heart didn’t get the memo, it had picked up a little. He didn’t like thinking about this. “Maybe we’re making out.”

“You’re funny,” Hongbin said in a tone that suggested anything but. He twisted, snatching the remote from Taekwoon and muting the television. The silence was almost loud, in its way. “Just— be honest with me. Has he made any progress?”

Taekwoon held in his frustrated sigh. “He lies to me, you know he does,” he said, maybe a little shortly. Jaehwan snuffled again, and both Taekwoon and Hongbin looked at him, waited, until it was clear Jaehwan wasn’t going to wake. “He doesn’t want us to worry any more than we already do.”

“But it’s a no,” Hongbin said, a little bitter. “If he isn’t improving— it means he hasn’t had any breakthroughs.”

Taekwoon was silent for a time before finally saying, “Yes.” Hongbin stared back at him, expectant and potent. “What?”

“I still say we should take him into the city— find a proper sorcerer—” Hongbin spoke with a hesitancy that belied the fact that he knew he was being ridiculous.

“Can we risk it?” Taekwoon asked. “He’s unregistered. And even if we found a sorcerer willing to overlook his illegal status — and ours — what will we pay them with? And don’t— don’t—”

“Blood is the currency of the realm, it always has been.”

“I’m not letting you become a feeder,” Taekwoon said, a touch too loud, but Jaehwan didn’t stir. Hongbin’s mouth settled into a line, eyes angry. “That is beyond counterproductive to everything we’ve been doing, to what Jaehwan is dying for—”

“Jaehwan is dying because he’s an idiot,” Hongbin said nastily, and Taekwoon knew him well enough to recognize the anger was hiding pain. “Not because he gives a shit about killing vamps. The siren spell in my veins would make me top tier, I would only have to do it a few times—”

Taekwoon was shaking his head. “It would also make you unlikely to survive— even putting aside the fact that you’re a hunter. You know what they’d do to you if they found out,” he said pointedly, and Hongbin’s mouth twisted. “Do you think Jaehwan would want you to be a feeder?”

“I think Jaehwan doesn’t want to die,” Hongbin said stoutly, sounding very young.

Hongbin’s eyes were shining a little, and Taekwoon ached for it. “I think you don’t want him to die,” Taekwoon whispered. He didn’t know why they were arguing about this again. It was like Hongbin just felt compelled to bring it up every once in awhile, felt compelled to try. But Taekwoon had won before it even started.

They held eye contact for a long, still moment. Hongbin was the one who looked away first, and he pushed off from the floor.

“Whatever,” Hongbin muttered. “I’m going to bed. Make sure Jae is back in his dungeon before you hit it, yeah? Can’t risk him sleeping here until the sun rises.” His eyes flicked to the window and then he left, disappearing down the hall.

Taekwoon stared at the television, until the movie finished, and then another started. He had too many thoughts, and he didn’t know what to do with any of them.

It wasn’t dire enough yet. Jaehwan still had time. They couldn’t afford to bring in outside help until things were utterly critical. If it came to it— Taekwoon would sell a great many things, to keep Jaehwan alive. But he wouldn’t let Hongbin stick his neck out quite so far. It was bad enough he let vampires bite him to lure them in to kill them. But letting them bite him for money, for their pleasure and survival— that was different. Taekwoon would sell a fucking kidney first.

It was Jaehwan pressing his toes into Taekwoon’s thigh that brought him out of his reverie. He looked over to see Jaehwan staring sleepily at him, eyes only half open. “I know that look,” Jaehwan murmured. “It’s the martyr look.”

Taekwoon didn’t reply to that. “You slept through the movie.”

Jaehwan hummed in agreement, and he stretched, arms going over his head and legs sprawling across Taekwoon’s lap. Taekwoon pinched his thigh through his sweatpants and Jaehwan yelped, jerking back into his own space, looking wounded.

Taekwoon smiled a little and stood, watching as Jaehwan sat up in turn, yawning widely. “I should sleep, will you be careful not to knock out again up here?”

Jaehwan waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah yeah, I will, not that it matters, because I know you’re going to set an alarm to get you up before sunrise to check on me,” he said, accusing, and Taekwoon simply looked mildly back at him. Jaehwan huffed, rising to his feet as well. He was only slightly shorter than Taekwoon, but he seemed so much smaller. “I’ll go back down to the basement now, do a bit of work, so you can give the alarm a break.”

“Be careful, alright?” Taekwoon said, and Jaehwan avoided his eyes.

“I’m always careful,” Jaehwan muttered.

He looked very wounded when Taekwoon began to laugh.

——

Magic, like so many things were, was deceivingly simple in theory.

The principal of it all was harnessing energy, directing it to perform tasks. There was energy in most everything, of different types and potencies. Plants had a soft undercurrent, as did many minerals, a gentle sort of core to them. The sun and moon, stars, also had their own energy to give. Everything was connected. When he’d first read up on it, Jaehwan rather felt he should be around a campfire singing Kumbaya. He’d never taken it as seriously as he should.

Despite that most things had energy of their own, it was living things, warm bodies, that carried the most energy in their veins, saturated in their blood, necessary for survival. It was a surplus of this sort of energy that enabled some humans to be sorcerers, when the amount tipped over what was simply necessary for survival and began seeping out. And while the volume could be worked on, built up with time, some people simply had an affinity, were more potent by nature.

Jaehwan had always been potent. As a child his propensity for magic had gotten him into trouble, usually of the accidental fire-setting kind. Fire was easiest in general, it was energy itself, very prone to whispers and whims. But the ease with which Jaehwan could summon the stuff, vases cracking when he laughed too loudly, milk curdling in his anger, it really should have compelled his family to send him to an academy. But they hadn’t realized how full he was. None of them had ever been trained in the magical arts themselves, and how were they supposed to know that the government would have paid for him, because he was too strong. It was optional, usually, for a child with magical inclinations to be trained to harness their abilities to become a sorcerer. Optional and expensive. Those that couldn’t usually grew up into mundane professions, like old Mrs. Kim down the street, who was a seamstress, the only clue into her inclinations being that her hems would never unravel.

But Jaehwan had enough energy spilling out of him to be considered too dangerous to go on without some sort of training. They hadn’t known, though, none of them had. Everyone with a magical excess could do some spell-less tricks. Lighting candles by looking at them, pouring coffee that would never grow cold. So Jaehwan’s oddities were overlooked as typical, and his file had been noted with _tendencies present but training not accepted_ so no one would arrest him for accidentally setting someone’s hair on fire.

But that was all that would be overlooked. Deliberate magic— that was a different beast.

Jaehwan had still wanted, though, wanted to do more even if he wasn’t allowed, and if they didn’t have the money for him to be trained then he was left with books, and the ever growing wealth of information the internet provided. It was dangerous, and Jaehwan had known it. But he’d thought his strength would protect him.

Learning the basics had been easy, the information perfectly accessible. But as things grew more challenging, more in depth, Jaehwan’s collected information grew spottier, and he’d been left to fill in the gaps with guesses and experimentation.

Spelled magical theory was a lot like science in many ways, and Jaehwan enjoyed it. Many things were too difficult to do on one’s own, with the power simply pulled from the body. So plants were used, sometimes as conduits for other energies, sometimes as necessary little boosts in and of themselves. Why would Jaehwan go through the trouble of warping his own energy to fit a mold when he could simply throw in some lavender sprigs and that would appease the spell’s needs.

Things got trickier when bits of living creatures got involved, because it began to take into account not just the residual living energy from the pieces, but also the sacrifice involved in attaining those pieces. Death was a surprisingly potent generator. Nothing could propagate energy quite like sacrifice.

Actual animal sacrifice wasn’t illegal, per se, but it did have to approved through the local Council, and a license issued before attempted. Human sacrifice, on the other hand, was utterly illegal, as was the use of any sort of human body part in spellwork. Too much energy, too unwieldy, too dangerous, not to mention a bit morally grey.

Jaehwan, of course, had never much cared what was and wasn’t illegal.

Not that he’d sacrificed a human, don’t get him wrong, but he did have a small collection of toddler finger bones kept a small velvet pouch in his desk, and a vertebrate from a priest that he, more often than not, irreverently used as a paperweight.

And then there was the blood. Lifeblood. Which carried the highest concentration of energy anything could. So much had been lost to them, through the centuries, because they’d gotten too squeamish about blood. But it was understandable, especially when one considered vampires. Vampires, which were most likely a necromancy spell gone awry. There was a reason they needed to consume human blood, and it was because they were magical beings, walking spellwork, that needed energy to survive. And what else could fuel such a large spell but blood, but death.

Jaehwan knew all this, gathered it together from dilapidated books in the library, scans of old texts online. Vampires in themselves should have proved a warning enough against working blood magic. It was what rose them.

But Jaehwan, as Hongbin so often said, was an idiot. So.

It could have gone worse. He could have died. Or turned into a demon.

“There is always a bright side,” Jaehwan muttered, shutting the tome he was flipping through and coughing when it sent dust flying into his face. He put the book to the side, wincing as he did so. His ass was going numb against the concrete.

Jaehwan knew so much, felt full to the brim with knowledge. He’d hardly come across a spell he couldn’t do.

And that was just the issue wasn’t it. He didn’t know how to fix a fuck up. He’d never learned that.

——

Hongbin didn’t have to be at work until two in the afternoon. He was, therefore, quite pissed off that his body decided it wanted to be awake at nine in the fucking morning.

“No,” he moaned, rolling over so he faced the wall, away from the persistent sunlight streaming in through his mangled blinds. His stomach gave a burbly sort of gurgle, belying what it was that had pulled him out of sleep.

Hongbin sat up, his hair sticking up on one side. “Urgh,” he said, and shoved the covers off himself. He’d have a quick bowl of cereal and then try to fall back asleep for at least another two hours.

As he shuffled to the kitchen, he tried to hold onto sleep so it’d be easier to knock out again, not letting his eyes open all the way, trying to keep his mind adrift. But he jolted when he saw the small vial sitting on the kitchen windowsill, the bright morning sunlight streaming in, shining through the contents, showing them to be thick and vibrantly red.

Any remaining vestiges of sleep evaporated from him, and he went to the window, saw the vial was placed meticulously on a small piece of paper ripped out of the little notepad they kept by the phone. In Jaehwan’s messy scrawl it read, _New attack after you’d gone to bed. A bit after four in the morning. Near the corner of Fern and Olive._

Hongbin frowned, his brain firing a little slowly but— that was right around where they’d killed that other sucker two nights ago. It could be coincidence, a nomadic vamp passing through. Or it could be the dead vamp’s maker, or maybe a child. It wasn’t uncommon for blood related vamps to settle near one another. If it was a blood relation, then it would stay in those hunting grounds. Which meant it was fair prey.

“Damn,” Hongbin muttered to himself, already mourning the sleep he wasn’t going to be getting. Not this morning, and not tonight.

He stepped away from the window, leaving the note and vial where they were. The blood would be better off sitting in sunlight until nightfall. He grabbed two bowls and the box of boring cornflake cereal out of the cabinet, pouring a healthy amount in each. No point adding milk in yet, because he was striding out of the kitchen, taking a minor detour to their entrance hall to grab the canvas map of the city before swerving back towards the bedrooms.

Taekwoon’s door wasn’t fully closed, and his room was dim when Hongbin pushed his way inside. It was messy, as usual, despite the fact that Taekwoon’s room, like Hongbin’s, was pretty sparse in terms of belongings. A bed, a desk and chair, a dresser. Taek lay balled up under his navy comforter, breathing soft and even. He wasn’t prone to sleeping in overly late, but Hongbin had a feeling he’d stayed up last night.

Stealth was redundant. Hongbin stepped around the miscellaneous clothes and shoes tossed on the floor, wrinkling his nose. He took a moment once he reached the side of the bed to stare at Taekwoon’s peaceful, sleeping expression, then flung the map down into Taekwoon’s face.

Taekwoon made a surprised little noise, somewhere between a gasp and a snort. He sat up quickly, the map falling down into his lap. “What—”

“There was another attack last night,” Hongbin said, stepping back as Taekwoon swiped at his hip. Taekwoon glared balefully at him, eyes squinted nearly shut. “Corner of Fern and Olive.”

Taekwoon stared at him for a beat, two, then said huskily, “Same area as before.”

“Yep. We should go back tonight.” Hongbin was in the doorway now, safe, and he tossed back over his shoulder, “I made breakfast, if you wanna get up.”

Taekwoon made a low growling noise, but he shifted, moving to rise at the promise of food, and Hongbin left him in favor of going back to the kitchen.

Three minutes later Hongbin’s right asscheek was very bruised, but he rather thought the disgruntled expression on Taekwoon’s face when he’d laid eyes on the bowl of cereal had been worth it.

——

It was a lucky thing that Taekwoon had a fairly short shift at work; he still felt alert by the time he got off. A gentle sort of tiredness was tugging at his limbs by the time it was dark, but he’d gone on hunts worse.

Hongbin on the other hand looked dead on his feet and kept yawning every few minutes. But he didn’t have to be particularly alert, all he had to be was enticing. So long as he kept his mouth shut he’d achieve that with ease. In fact, Hongbin was probably most alluring in slumber.

Jaehwan came to see them out, lounging in the open front door. He was still sleep-soft, and smiling a little as he watched Hongbin bumble his way into the passenger side of Taekwoon’s car. “Keep an eye on the baby,” Jaehwan muttered.

The wooden floorboards of the porch creaked under Taekwoon’s weight as he stood there, shifting on them. “I will, I always do,” he said.

Jaehwan looked up at him, the smile still lingering on his face. “Did you grab the blood?”

“I did.” Taekwoon touched his jacket pocket, where the little vial sat, warm with energy. “Thank you.”

Jaehwan hummed, pushing off from the door frame. “I’m going to go eat those leftovers, you two have fun with your stabbing things.”

“Lock the door,” Taekwoon murmured, and caught Jaehwan rolling his eyes as he turned away.

——

They picked a spot two blocks over from the site of their last kill, beside a large closed supermarket. Hongbin waited by the wide alleyway delivery trucks would use to go around the back of the store, and there was no mirroring alleyway across the street, so Taekwoon was forced to lurk a bit down the block, around the corner of a chain sandwich shop.

Hongbin stood there a long time, leaning against the dirty white plaster of the supermarket, fiddling on his phone. Taekwoon watched as he kept yawning. Sometimes it took a while, but Taekwoon would never understand how Hongbin often seemed to be bored on a hunt, as literal vampire bait. Taekwoon always felt so wound up someone may as well have jabbed his finger into an electrical socket. But then, Taekwoon’s job had more riding on it, in ways. Less margin for error.

If Hongbin fucked up, they wouldn’t get a bite. If Taekwoon fucked up, one or both of them could end up dead.

After a time, maybe about an hour, Hongbin sauntered down the street a little ways, closer to Taekwoon, to a bus stop with a bench and lamppost beside it. He plunked himself down on the bench, pulling his phone out and flicking through it idly. It wasn’t as pretty of a target, but Taekwoon couldn’t do anything about it except send Hongbin a text saying, _Not there_. Which, if Hongbin received, he neither reacted to nor obeyed.

By the time Taekwoon’s earring began humming, it had been so long that Taekwoon was near calling it off and saying they should go home, try another night. Hongbin was dozing on the bench, his phone in his lap, like some poor sap that had gotten too drunk and fallen asleep waiting for a bus that wasn’t coming.

Hongbin didn’t stir as Taekwoon’s earring warmed, the vamp getting nearer, but Taekwoon did, his hand going to the hilt of his dagger as he edged forward a little. The problem with Hongbin’s position was if a vampire flitted through and grabbed him, Taekwoon might not know which direction he’d been spirited away in—

It was fast as a shadow, Taekwoon barely saw it flicker in. But suddenly it was there, standing behind Hongbin, the sharp light of the streetlamps shading its face like the worst kind of horror movie. It was— dark, black hair and black clothes, like a true spectre of death.

Hongbin had no wards to warn him, but vampiric energy was a potent, unmistakable thing, the smell of them sweet but sick, and he jolted awake. He began to turn, instinct making him look for the threat, standing as he did so, the crack of his phone hitting the concrete loud in the silence of the night.

He didn’t get a chance to even fully straighten; the moment Hongbin’s eyes skittered over the thing’s face he was caught, and Taekwoon could almost feel the wash of glamour, even from across the street as he was. The confidence with which it stood there, bold as brass, in the light from the streetlamp, showed that it was probably an older one. So, the maker, if it was related to their last kill.

The vampire reached over the bench, human speed, and touched its fingertips under Hongbin’s chin, bringing him fully upright. Their eyes didn’t waver from one another’s. Slowly, as if it had all the time in the world, it led Hongbin around the bench with its fingertips on his jaw. Hongbin went silently, his unblinking eyes glazed. The vampire was smiling, a little, a slight curve of its lips.

The vampire stepped back, and back again, leading Hongbin into the nearest slim alleyway, the darkness swallowing them both, and Taekwoon willed himself to relax. He was so tense he was shaking, the fingers of his right hand aching from how hard they were clutching the hilt of his dagger. This was familiar territory, even if the start hadn’t been. He pulled his dagger out of its leather sheath, switching it to his left hand in the hopes of regaining some feeling in his right.

The charm hanging from his ear was simmering, almost hissing, and Taekwoon touched a finger to it, found it burning hot. He jerked his hand back, stomach swooping. It was too soon, too fast, but— it was saying now, now, _now_. He stepped forward, hesitated when he reached the edge of the shadows. Too soon, but something was wrong.

“Shit,” he whispered, and darted forward, sprinting over the asphalt like there were hellhounds coming for him. He half expected something to swoop in and grab him, stop him— this felt like a trap. But he made it to the other side, the darkness engulfing him again when he reached the alleyway.

Before him was the usual scene, Hongbin pinned compliantly against the side of a building, white plaster at his back, the vampire drinking. But the magic, the magic was so thick Taekwoon felt he should almost be able to inhale it, the pull of the glamour intoxicating and sweet.

The knife was back in his right hand, and he grit his teeth against the song of the glamour as he stepped forward, footfalls echoing in the narrow alley. The vampire raised its head as he approached, dark eyes glittering, but Taekwoon looked at its mouth, smeared with crimson. _Don’t look into their eyes_ , he reminded himself, but god, resisting the pull of the glamour was almost registering as pain.

That bloodied mouth curved gently in a close lipped smile. “There’s the second,” the vampire murmured, and Taekwoon stuttered, heart skipping at the sound of its voice. He almost dropped his dagger, hands suddenly feeling nerveless, legs weak.

The vampire watched him with what seemed like amusement, and didn’t move to pull off Hongbin, who was beginning to blink a little. He’d been so Thralled though that it didn’t look like he would fully resurface, not while the vampire was still touching him.

The vampire had been drinking, it had, and the nature of the spell in Hongbin’s blood was to weaken vampires, disorient them, essentially act as a potent drug. But the vampire was steady as it stood there, and Taekwoon felt cold at his core because something— something had gone wrong.

He couldn’t take down a vampire at full power, he couldn’t, not without help. He needed to get it off Hongbin so there would be some chance for them.

As if reading his thoughts, the vampire leaned forward, pressing its mouth to Hongbin’s jaw, though it didn’t take its eyes from Taekwoon, who was beginning to feel like he was being skinned from it. “I’m sorry, but not giving him back,” the vampire said softly, and fuck but its voice sounded wrong, some alien undercurrent to it that made goosebumps rise on Taekwoon’s skin. “He may only be pleasing because of the magic he’s laced himself with, but the imitation is a good one.”

Taekwoon was stuck to the spot, the very air stolen from his lungs. He needed to move. “What are you?” he said dazedly, quite without volition, as if he’d been possessed. His mind was spinning in circles hopelessly, they needed backup they didn’t have. The vampire was too old, is what it was, and it wasn’t a nest vampire—

The vampire, if possible, looked like it pitied him. “Such a reckless way to hunt,” it whispered, and Taekwoon jolted. “Only one needs to die to cripple a unit of two. You can go, little vigilante. Run.” It gave Taekwoon a mental push, but it was small, almost negligent, as if it thought Taekwoon would need no real prompting, before its eyes lowered, turning and leaning into the other side of Hongbin’s neck.

The loss of the vampire’s gaze raking over him was monumental. Taekwoon felt like he’d been dissolving, mind out of touch, and someone had harshly slammed him back into physical form, his pieces snapping back together.

His pounding heart was agonizing, the urge to run pulling at every nerve. Dissolving had been much preferable. But the vampire’s mouth was opening and the glint of fangs spurred Taekwoon into movement. It took three steps and then he was there, using his momentum to swing his blade up, aiming under the shoulder blade—

He didn’t see it move, this time. It simply suddenly had a hand on his forearm, stopping him before he made contact. It twisted his arm sharply, easily, and Taekwoon cried out, bending forward to take some of the pressure off his straining joints.

Then he was kicked in the stomach, and the force of it sent him flying backwards, back connecting hard with the pavement. The sound he made was choked, tears springing to his eyes. He rolled, cradling his arm to his chest, shoulder either broken or dislocated.

“You have a pretty voice,” the vampire said softly.

Taekwoon looked up at it in hatred, saw it had stepped back from Hongbin, still pinning him against the wall with a hand to the chest but standing a bit away. Hongbin wasn’t moving, body slumped against the wall, but his eyes weren’t glazed anymore. They were wide, and looking at Taekwoon as if trying to send him some kind of message.

The vampire spoke again, quickly. “I don’t like killing pointlessly; I cannot possibly drain the both of you.” It sounded almost— impatient, like it was reprimanding a child. “I’ve already said I will let you live, so _go_.”

This time the glamour of the command was anything but negligent. It raked over Taekwoon, nearly making him retch with how very badly he wanted to get out of there. But he could not— could not—

He bit his bottom lip hard, drawing blood, to bring himself back. The vampire was watching him, waiting, and Taekwoon stood again, even if his legs trembled beneath him. He moved his dagger from his right hand to his left, the movement painfully slow, painfully human. 

The vampire stared, eyes tracing over Taekwoon’s face, the heaving of his chest, his right arm cradled against his stomach. Its expression was strangely solemn. “Loyalty is a virtue I applaud,” it whispered, fangs flashing. “I do not want—”

Hongbin grabbed the vampire’s forearm, the arm it had braced against him, and leaned down sharply so he could sink blunt human teeth into the vampire’s hand, grinding against its knuckles.

The vampire shrieked, a sound that Taekwoon rather thought should shatter glass, and wrenched itself away from Hongbin. In the second of distraction Taekwoon threw his dagger, hoping the rune for aim would send it true—

It did not hit the vampire in the heart, he hadn’t truly expected it to, but it did hit its shoulder, the blade cutting through fabric and flesh. Fat lot of good it would do, it couldn’t send an energy blast out if Taekwoon wasn’t holding it, but it was still silver. The vampire made a surprised little sound at the contact, a small _oh_ , and looked down at the blade sticking out of itself like it couldn’t quite believe it had happened.

Hongbin scrambled away, scraping along the wall until he fell against Taekwoon, who met him halfway. The vampire had a twisted look on its face, skin smoking slightly from the silver, and in a quick flash it had pulled the blade from his shoulder and dropped it; the hilt was silver too, Taekwoon caught the slight bit of smoke swirling around the vampire’s fingers.

“Will you run?” it asked, stepping forward. For the first time, Taekwoon registered it had a male frame. “You’ve lost your weapon—”

Taekwoon wrapped his arm around Hongbin, slapping his hand over Hongbin’s eyes, and with his other hand he grabbed the vial of Jaehwan’s blood out from his jacket pocket. The vampire stilled, for a second, a moment, as if expecting another weapon, and Taekwoon saw confusion flicker over its features before he squeezed his own eyes shut and blindly threw the vial down onto the unforgiving concrete.

The sound of the glass shattering was barely audible over the whoosh of energy exploding out, the bright light of it turning Taekwoon’s eyelids orangish-red. Both he and Hongbin cried out over the feeling of heat washing over them, hot sparks of pain, as if molten metal was being flung in raindrops against their skin. But their cries were nothing to the vampire’s screaming as it felt sunlight for the first time in no doubt centuries.

It didn’t kill it. Taekwoon had hoped it would kill it, but the screaming was a definite indication that it had not, indeed, been sent to the true death. The light was gone already, and even though Taekwoon had closed his eyes, his vision was spotty.

Hongbin was pulling him back, pulling him away from the sound, rending and agonized. It took a second for Taekwoon’s mind to click into place but then he was moving of his own volition, turning and running with Hongbin at his side.

“My dagger—” Taekwoon gasped, once they were out of the alley, stuttering as they were turning around the corner to look back.

Hongbin grabbed at his jacket, pulling, frantic. “It’s not dead, we have to move,” he fairly screamed, and the fear in his voice was startling in its own right. Taekwoon’s eyes darted over him, he looked sunburnt, blood seeping out of a few pores.

He followed Hongbin down the block, muttering spells for misdirection as he went, as if that would stop the vampire following them. The screaming stopped before they were out of earshot, and Taekwoon wished it hadn’t; he wanted to know where the damned thing was.

“Keys!” Hongbin said, once the car was in sight, and Taekwoon fumbled, shaking hard enough he felt likely to fall apart. He got the car open somehow and they both piled in. There was warding on his vehicle but he didn’t think it would hold up to a truly determined sucker. Their best bet was the protection of motion, distance, and their home.

Taekwoon peeled away from the curb with a rapidity that made his tires smoke, too afraid to look into his rearview mirror. Hongbin, on the other hand, was twisted in his seat, looking back. “I don’t see it,” he panted.

“Call Jaehwan,” Taekwoon gasped. His lungs were burning, and he felt lightheaded in the worst way.

Hongbin patted at his pockets and then said, “My phone—”

They’d left it. Shit. “Use mine,” Taekwoon said, fishing it out of his pocket.

“What do I tell him?” Hongbin asked, already holding the phone to his ear.

Good question. “Tell him what happened, tell him— tell him to be ready,” Taekwoon said.

He kept waiting, through the entire twenty minute, agonizing drive. Waiting for something to wrench his door off its hinges, for the window to shatter. But it didn’t come. His earring, blessed little silver cross, had calmed down many miles ago, so the vampire wasn’t following them. Perhaps it had been more wounded than they’d thought.

“We should have killed it,” he said.

Hongbin shot him a look askance and shook his head in a sharp jerk. “It was too strong, I think even charred to a crisp it still would have been able to snap our spines.”

“Maybe,” Taekwoon whispered.

Maybe. But they’d be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i’m not sure as to the update schedule of this, i think i will just post as i finish each chapter. so i may post once a week, twice a week, every other week. it just depends.  
> 2\. i’m working on another few fics at the same time as this one, and i’m trying to decide if i hate myself enough to try and juggle posting multiple multi-chaptered fics at the same time.  
> 3\. strap yourselves in for the long haul i guess.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a month to get out wow i aM SORRY but truth be told it is cuz i was working out plot stuff because as i think i've said IDK WHAT I AM DOING WITH THIS FIC. and then that werewolf fic exploded out of me in three days. writing is An Experience. i don't think there will be an update next week cuz i am gonna be busy but an attempt will be made.

Jaehwan stood by the window, waiting, darkness surrounding him like an old friend. The porch light was on, watery at best, but it illuminated the front yard as he peered out through the bent blinds.

He’d done a sweep of the house after Hongbin had called, breathless and panicked. The innate magic residences possessed meant that no vampire could enter a human’s home without permission, but that didn’t stop vampires from finding ways to destroy houses, and harm their inhabitants, from the outside. Jaehwan had wards of his own around for additional protection, thick on the walls and in the foundations, and he’d made his rounds to check for any drafts, but they were all intact. 

It didn’t take long, he knew it didn’t, but he wished Hongbin hadn’t hung up the phone. Waiting for them to return was awful. 

Jaehwan felt the car before he saw it, his senses cast out and making contact with his own spellwork on the vehicle, the charms his boys carried. He moved away from the window as headlights came into view, one hand on the handle of the front door, the other holding onto the flip of the deadbolt, ready to unlock it as soon as he heard the porch creak.

The house wards were calm, and Jaehwan couldn’t sense the presence of a vampire— and he found they were hard to miss. Potent beacons of magic. But when the wood of the porch groaned under Taekwoon’s weight Jaehwan still unlocked the deadbolt swiftly, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet, before he was yanking the door open. 

Jaehwan froze at the sight of them, but Taekwoon didn’t pause, pushed past him into the house, with Hongbin fast behind him. Their faces were reddened, like they’d been lying out in the sun all day, baking. Jaehwan wasn’t sure he’d ever seen them so spooked, Hongbin especially. But he probably didn’t look much better; he could feel the paleness in his own face, and trembles ran through his body. He shut the door behind them, sliding the deadbolt over once more. As if a lock would do anything against a vampire. 

Jaehwan flicked the lights on. There was blood smeared over Hongbin’s neck in swathes, on his hands, his collar stained with it, and as Jaehwan watched Taekwoon leaned his waist back against the arm of the couch, his face twisted in pain. His posture was lopsided, and he held his right arm in against his stomach. 

“I don’t think we were followed,” Taekwoon said, and Jaehwan could see the sweat thick at his temples. 

Jaehwan nodded, hands hovering at about waist height, unsure which of them he should tend to first. They couldn’t go to a hospital even if they could afford it. Too many questions. “I can’t sense one, and neither can any of the wards,” Jaehwan said. He looked to Hongbin. “Do you think you need a transfusion?”

“No,” Hongbin said, but his lips were a bit pale. He was able to stand, so Jaehwan supposed he wasn’t too bad off. “It got me twice, but— I think I’m alright. Mostly I’m just still a little dazed from the glamour.” Hongbin nodded to Taekwoon. “His shoulder’s out of joint. I— I’m not entirely sure how to set it.”

“I know how, but I can’t tell if it’s dislocated or broken,” Taekwoon murmured. His face had that pinched look to it, and Jaehwan recognized pain well enough.

Jaehwan stepped forward on instinct, hands already out and laying themselves against Taekwoon’s shoulder with care. Taekwoon flinched, a small whimper escaping him before he bit his bottom lip to cut it off. Jaehwan cast his senses out from his hands, feeling, but he couldn’t sense Taekwoon’s energy reacting in a way that would indicate his shoulder was broken. Mostly he just seemed off kilter, probably from being in the middle of the sunlight bomb going off. They didn’t look the better for it, so Jaehwan could only imagine how the vampire had suffered.

“It isn’t broken,” Jaehwan said softly, opening his eyes and looking at Taekwoon’s face. “How do I set it?” 

Taekwoon looked at him for a long moment, Jaehwan keeping his hands on his shoulder, feeling the heat of him seep through Taekwoon’s clothes. Then Taekwoon looked to Hongbin and murmured, “Can you get the bag of frozen peas for me? I’m going to have to ice it.”

Hongbin squinted at them but obediently left to go to the kitchen. Taekwoon swallowed thickly and whispered, “I’m sorry, for botching the hunt. We’re all in danger now, but you especially.”

“I’m a walking sunlight charm, don’t worry about me,” Jaehwan said.

“That’s why you’re in danger,” Taekwoon murmured, mouth twisting. “Jaehwan, I—”

“Tell me how to fix your shoulder,” Jaehwan snapped, not wanting to hear it, not now, not like this. If they came for him, they came for him. At least he knew spilling his blood had the capacity to take them all with him. 

Taekwoon fell silent for a moment. The sound of the freezer door closing finally prompted him. No doubt, he had realized that Jaehwan would be sweeter with him than Hongbin. “Take my wrist in one hand and brace my elbow against my body with the other,” he murmured. “Rotate my arm so my wrist is held away from my body, without my elbow moving. It should slide the bone back into place.”

Jaehwan took Taekwoon’s wrist in his hand, careful to make sure Taekwoon’s jacket separated their skin; he was too worked up, he didn’t want to risk skin on skin contact. Hongbin came back and at Taekwoon’s instruction he held the frozen peas up to Taekwoon’s shoulder.

It was easier than Jaehwan had expected; the hard part was simply the fact of Taekwoon being in pain. He yelped, flinching when his shoulder slid into place with an audible little noise. 

Hongbin went to fetch a scarf to use as a makeshift sling, and Jaehwan took over holding the bag of frozen peas against Taekwoon’s shoulder. Taekwoon surprised Jaehwan, a little, by leaning forward and resting his forehead against Jaehwan’s upper arm. Jaehwan didn’t say anything about it, just listened to Taekwoon’s breathing, which was slightly uneven.

“I thought he was going to die,” Taekwoon whispered, and Jaehwan looked down at the top of his head. “Hongbin. It didn’t want to let him go.” He raised his head, so he could look at Jaehwan’s face. “Why do you think the spell in Hongbin’s blood didn’t weaken it? It certainly could taste the sweetness.”

Jaehwan gave a one shouldered shrug, careful not to let the peas slip. “It may have been very old. From what Hongbin described it could have been an Elimia too. It was willing to let you go, after all.”

Taekwoon nodded slightly, like this confirmed something he’d been thinking, and then Hongbin was back with a long black scarf that Jaehwan recognized as belonging to Taekwoon. Together with Jaehwan they tied it around Taekwoon’s neck, tucking his arm into it and then helping him so he was laying down on the couch, the bag of peas balanced on him. 

“You should get cleaned up,” Jaehwan said to Hongbin once Taekwoon was settled. The blood on Hongbin’s neck was drying, flaking off in spots grotesquely. And they needed to look over the bites. “The wards are quiet, and I don’t feel anything either— for now we’re safe.” For now. 

“Yeah.” Hongbin touched fingertips to his neck, and then his face. “I feel like my skin’s been fried,” he muttered, and looked to Taekwoon, whose face matched Hongbin’s in red tenderness. “I guess there’s not much to be done.”

“The salve I put on your bite marks will help the burns too,” Jaehwan said. It was a salve made to encourage seamless healing, and soothe. 

“Do you have anything that’ll help me stop feeling shaken?” Hongbin muttered, then frowned, shaking his head sharply. He winced when the motion tugged at the crusted bite marks. “I’m gonna go clean up.”

Jaehwan watched him go, a frown on his own face. He could make a potion for nerves. He probably should, for all of them. He looked at Taekwoon, who was laying on the couch, brow furrowed and eyes glazed with pain. The salve first, Jaehwan thought, and left Taekwoon in the living room in favor of grabbing the jar of salve from the basement.

As he passed through his basement room, he idly wondered if they shouldn’t bring the air mattress down here— it was the safest room in the house, and if a vampire threw a molotov cocktail in through a window upstairs, this room would protect them even if the house was destroyed. They’d be wise to consider it, living down here once the sun was down. Jaehwan already did. It wasn’t an urgent issue tonight, dawn was in a couple hours, but they’d have to live with the repercussions of tonight indefinitely. Plans would have to be made.

Taekwoon was right where Jaehwan had left him when he got back to the living room, eyes staring up at the ceiling, glazed with pain. Jaehwan sat down on the edge of the coffee table, felt it wobble. “Taekwoon,” Jaehwan murmured, and Taekwoon looked at him without turning his head, eyes half closing. “It will— we’ll figure this out.”

Taekwoon gave a soft laugh, more a quick exhalation of air than anything, rolling his eyes a little before closing them. “I think that’s supposed to be my line,” he whispered.

Jaehwan swallowed down his reply in favor of unscrewing the lid to the jar of salve. Inside it smelled like clean water and oxygen, like a greenhouse on a hot day, and the salve itself was cool to the touch and translucent, colorless. He collected a healthy dollop on his fingertips and then leaned forward so he could smear it across Taekwoon’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose. Taekwoon winced, and at first Jaehwan thought it was from the coldness, but then he realized that their skin was fizzing at the contact between them. Taekwoon’s skin, burned as it was, probably registered it as pain. 

Jaehan jerked his hand back, and Taekwoon opened an eye to look at him. “Sorry,” Jaehwan said. “I’m— spilling, I’m nervous, I’m— sorry.” 

Taekwoon didn’t say anything, simply held his hand out for the jar, which Jaehwan gave him, and then began to rub the salve into his burned skin in slow circular motions.

Jaehwan watched him in silence for a few minutes, the fingertips of his right hand feeling sticky, before he ventured, “I think we should maybe consider—” He cut off because the wards of the house rippled, and without thinking he froze, cast his senses out, and made a small noise as he sensed vampire energy.

Taekwoon was already on his feet, his make-shift ice pack of frozen peas falling to the floor as he moved, grabbing Jaehwan by the upper arm roughly and pulling him up. “Get in the basement,” he said, shoving at Jaehwan to go as Hongbin came skidding into the room, face and hair damp with water, the neck of his shirt soaked. The bite marks in the side of his neck were raw and red, and the whites of his eyes flashed in the low light.

“It might be one just passing by,” Jaehwan said in an urgent undertone, but he didn’t really believe that. He was beginning to tremble, backing up towards the kitchen. He could sense the energy was out on the street, close, close but not on their property. He grabbed at the back of Taekwoon’s shirt, tugging, and motioned at Hongbin with his other hand. Hongbin began to move, but Taekwoon was staring to the front of the house like an animal on alert, right hand pawing at his pockets for a dagger he no longer had. “Taek—”

A loud _thud_ resounded on the front door, something striking it and making it rattle in the frame. They all startled, giving out short cries, and then were plunged into darkness as the lightbulbs above them shattered. Jaehwan clamped his hands over his mouth, trying to force the bubble of panicked magic down before he ended up busting a water pipe. 

They all waited, quiet, hunched and ready to spring into motion, but too afraid to be the first to move. There were no more assaults on the house, and whatever had struck the door wasn’t— it was silent too. The wards settled, and Jaehwan could feel the vampiric energy fading until it blipped off his radar completely. 

“I think it’s gone,” Jaehwan whispered, peering from around Taekwoon’s shoulder to look at the front door. “I can’t sense it anymore.”

Taekwoon was trembling, from this close Jaehwan could see it. Hongbin had his arms almost crossed— it honestly looked more like he was holding himself.

“We need to get whatever it threw onto the porch off it,” Hongbin said, eyeing the door.

Taekwoon shook his head. “Later, when the sun is up. I don’t trust it now.”

“If it’s something like a severed head we can’t afford to leave it there and potentially be seen,” Hongbin snapped out, his fear making him angry.

Jaehwan hadn’t considered that, but it was well within the realm of possible. Vampire behavior was difficult to predict. “Whatever it is, the wards aren’t reacting to it,” Jaehwan offered, looking up at Taekwoon’s stony profile, silhouetted from the light coming in from the porchlight outside. “It’s neither alive nor a cursed object.” 

Taekwoon stepped away, towards the door, making a sharp motion at the both of them when they moved to follow him. Jaehwan stopped immediately, Hongbin took a few more steps before halting as well. 

When Taekwoon reached the door he slid the deadbolt back, and didn't yank it open right away, choosing instead to tug it open a crack, pressing his face near it so he could peer out hesitantly. “I don’t see anything,” he whispered, pulling the door open a bit wider so he could stick his head out. “There’s nothing here.”

“Let us—” Hongbin said, striding forward and grabbing the edge of the door, pulling it back so it was half open and he could see out too.

“Ah,” Jaehwan said, and both Taekwoon and Hongbin jumped a little, pulling back and moving to close the door. “No, no, it’s— it’s in the door, look—”

They opened it once more, moving their gazes from where they’d been searching over the porch and lawn to look up at the outside of the door itself. Taekwoon’s silver dagger was embedded in the wood, thrown with such force it had stuck there. After a moment of pause Taekwoon touched a fingertip to the handle, and when nothing momentous happened, he wrapped his hand around it. It took a few seconds of tugging and jostling, but then the dagger came free of the wood.

Taekwoon held the dagger to his chest, gave one last sweeping glance over the porch and front yard, and murmured, “Back inside.”

Hongbin stepped back so Taekwoon could close the door and bolt it again. “It’s a warning,” Hongbin said softly. 

“Yes,” Taekwoon replied, looking down at the blade in his hands. 

A long pause. “This isn’t good,” Hongbin said.

“Yes,” Taekwoon said again. He looked up, eyes searching out Jaehwan’s in the darkness, though Jaehwan didn’t know why.

——

Nothing put Hongbin in a mood quite like lack of sleep did. That wasn’t really saying much, because Hongbin was well aware he was a cantankerous fucker even at the best of times. But waking up after only an hour or two of sleep really just gave him a boost right to the top of Murder Mountain. 

The sun was bright, but the morning was still cool, crisp in that way autumn mornings tended to be. He and Taekwoon were in the kitchen, both looking like walking death, if death could sunburn. 

They’d had to wake up early to both call out of work. Taekwoon was still moving like an old man, shoulder bruised a mottled purple and black. Even if that wasn’t an issue, the both of them were just too burned looking, it would be too difficult to explain. Theoretically by tomorrow the salve Jaehwan made for them would have expedited the healing enough that their skin would look less like they’d been thrown onto belt sanders. Hongbin was going to apply the damn stuff every hour like a teenager trying to ward off an acne breakout, in the hopes he’d look something closer to normal by the time he had to go back into work. 

Of course, this was all supposing they would make it to then.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” Taekwoon said, the barest of whispers. He looked small, somehow, sitting at the table with his hands wrapped around his mug of coffee. Hongbin knew it had probably cost Taekwoon a lot, to admit that he was lost, but Hongbin wasn’t feeling very charitable currently. And with Jaehwan currently tucked away in his basement for the day, there was no one there to reel him in.

“And how exactly is that useful?” Hongbin snapped, and Taekwoon flinched, shoulders hunching. Hongbin shoved his chair back from the table and strode away, to the sink so he could look out the window that overlooked their back yard, overgrown and dry. He gripped the edge of the counter until his fingertips ached. 

The silence stretched on, until the guilt gnawing at Hongbin’s gut made him turn, taking a steadying breath.

“I just mean,” he said, tone softer, “we— we need to try.”

Taekwoon looked at him from his seat at the table, and there was a depth of sadness in his eyes that hurt Hongbin to look at. “The obvious option would be to run, just pick up and disappear,” Taekwoon whispered. “But— Jaehwan will die.”

Hongbin nodded shortly. “We can’t afford to try moving him during the day, and we obviously can’t move any of us at night. And then finding a place that would be light-tight and safe for him— it would take time.”

“Yes,” Taekwoon whispered, and he looked down at his coffee like he could use it to scry at the future. 

Hongbin scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling like an animal in a trap. “So moving is off the table,” he said. “Locking down in the basement will provide us with safety— but I don’t want to do that every single night for the rest of our lives.”

Another long pause, as they both thought. Finally the silence was broken by Taekwoon speaking in a slow, thoughtful voice. “There would be a small window of time, after sunset, before the vampire could get here. Time enough for us all to pop outside.”

Hongbin frowned, but Taekwoon wasn’t looking at him still. “And do what? Try to run?”

Taekwoon shook his head absently. “I don’t want to run from this, I think we need to end it. We need to kill it.”

Hongbin thought about it. “That— that would be the best option, and we know it is going to come back here, most likely. We’d have to set a magical trap though—” Hongbin said, then stopped, realizing. “The few minutes after sunset, if Jaehwan worked fast enough, you think he could set one.”

Now Taekwoon was _really_ not looking at Hongbin, so much so that not-looking-at-Hongbin was almost palpable in the air. “Yes.”

Hongbin turned away, looking back out the window at the clear blue sky. “Jaehwan’s stubborn enough to try,” he muttered. “But we both know where that got him in the past.”

“He is more careful now,” Taekwoon said, and because Hongbin was turned away, Taekwoon missed the way he rolled his eyes. “We can suggest it, at the least. Let him decide if he thinks it is worth trying.”

“He’ll do it, even if he shouldn’t,” Hongbin said, and they both knew it was true. This was possibly their only option— the vampire needed to be killed or they’d be trapped for the rest of their lives. But Hongbin didn’t have to like it. 

Taekwoon sighed. “Probably.”

Hongbin debated whether or not to say what was on the tip of his tongue, and ended up whispering, “He’d do anything, for you.”

There was no reply to that, other than the gentle scraping sound of Taekwoon’s chair being pushed back, the soft sound of his bare feet against the tile as he left the room. 

“I’d do anything, too,” Hongbin whispered, even though the sun was the only one still with him to witness it. 

——

Taekwoon sat on their back porch, on an old rotting wooden chair with peeling mint paint, bleached by the sun. The sky was beautiful, pinks and magentas lingering from the sunset. Taekwoon would have liked to stand on the grass, the sky stretching above his head, but Jaehwan had banished him nearer to the house, because his nervous energy was fucking with Jaehwan’s magical feng shui. Or that was what Jaehwan had said. 

It wasn’t as though he meant to be jittery— Taekwoon knew it was only direct sunlight that gave Jaehwan real problems, but he didn’t think the residual lingering traces did Jaehwan any favors either. If he was bothered, though, he was keeping his reactions quiet. When Jaehwan had first followed Taekwoon outside after being woken, he’d made a noise, a soft exhalation, but Taekwoon didn’t know if that was from pain, or simply because it had been a long while since Jaehwan had seen a blazing red sky, a sunset. 

Now, Jaehwan wasn’t looking at the sky. He crouched on the concrete of their yard, a large unattractive slab put down by the previous owners. They’d had an above ground pool, and the concrete was stained with the shape of it. As Taekwoon watched, Jaehwan drew their vampire trap in white spell chalk, circles within circles, and more runes Taekwoon could count. The circles were perfect, and Taekwoon wondered if the ability to draw them just came with being a sorcerer, or if Jaehwan had practiced where they couldn’t see. 

Jaehwan was working fast, and Taekwoon was glad for it. As the magentas in the sky began to fade to violets, his heart picked up. They would need to be back in the house before they lost all the light. 

Hongbin came out, turning the porch light on as he did it, and Jaehwan shot him a grateful glance before grabbing a jar from beside himself on the concrete. He dipped his fingertips into it, and they came out crimson with lamb’s blood. He drew four last runes with the blood, and Taekwoon knew enough about sorcery to know they were placed at the four compass points. Then Jaehwan put the lid back on the jar and knelt in the center of the circle, holding the jar in his lap, and closed his eyes. Taekwoon could see his lips moving, but couldn’t hear his voice.

Out of the corner of his eye, Taekwoon saw Hongbin glance at the sky. The moon was visible, bright and silver, but the stars weren’t out yet. He stood, reaching out to take Hongbin’s elbow, trying to be a comfort. Hongbin didn’t react to his touch, simply stared out at Jaehwan, eyes unblinking. 

Taekwoon could feel it, could feel the energy gathering, the air trembling with it until it seemed as if they were looking at Jaehwan through rippling glass. He seemed peaceful, still, murmuring and crouching at the center of the circle, but Taekwoon knew this was difficult. Spells like this relied heavily on the energy of the caster, the raw skill, their inherent power. It was why the government didn’t simply layer vampire traps everywhere. Most casters didn’t have the sheer volume of energy needed to get this sort of spell off the ground, and those that did would feel the impact of casting even one, let alone trying to attempt multiple traps. 

Truth be told, Taekwoon wasn’t sure Jaehwan had the energy. Once upon a time he did, but now a lot of his energy was being eaten from inside himself. 

The stars were twinkling. Taekwoon tugged gently at Hongbin, whispered, “Go get a knife.”

Hongbin glanced at him, scowling, but he ducked back into the house. Taekwoon stepped off the porch, the creaky stairs, onto the concrete, so he could be close to Jaehwan in case anything went wrong. He stumbled back, a bit, when there was a flash, but there was no noise, no feeling, just white light as the chalk around Jaehwan began to glow fiercely for a second before it flickered out. 

Jaehwan slumped, his fingers losing their grip on the jar so it rolled out of his lap, clinking softly as it hit the concrete but not breaking. Taekwoon strode forward, grabbing at Jaehwan’s shoulders to keep him from falling to the concrete himself. An odd sort of cold sensation passed over him, that he supposed marked the edge of the trap. The chalk lines were gone, as where the bloody runes. The concrete looked as it had before Jaehwan had started.

“Jae,” Taekwoon murmured, and Jaehwan’s head lolled back so he could stare up at Taekwoon with glazed eyes. His face was white. “Are you—”

“Grab the jar, please,” Jaehwan mumbled, making a little aborted motion at the jar of lamb’s blood. Taekwoon bit his bottom lip but obeyed, kneeling and grabbing the jar of lamb’s blood in one hand, the other moving to snake around Jaehwan’s waist so he could haul him back up to his feet. Jaehwan wobbled, leaning against Taekwoon’s side. “It worked. It should— work. Even if the vampire is an Elimia.” He was looking down, like he was inspecting the chalk lines Taekwoon could no longer see. Maybe Jaehwan could.

Taekwoon heard the gentle crunch of footsteps, and turned to see Hongbin walking towards them, expression flat. He was holding a butterfly knife loosely by his side. 

“There,” Jaehwan said, still slurring a bit. He gestured at where Taekwoon supposed the center of the trap was, and Hongbin obediently stood where he’d been told. Jaehwan nodded, but the motion set him off balance, and he might have fallen had Taekwoon not been holding onto his waist. “Sorry, I— sorry.”

“I’m going to take him inside,” Taekwoon said to Hongbin, and he could hear the strain in his own voice. “Don’t do anything until I come back.”

Hongbin gave a short nod. His expression was placid, but Taekwoon could see tenseness in the line of his spine.

Taekwoon guided Jaehwan back into the house, half carrying him. The back door led them into the kitchen, and Taekwoon put the lamb’s blood on the counter before leading Jaehwan into the living room, setting him down on the couch. 

“I feel dizzy,” Jaehwan mumbled. His lips were so pale. “And sick.”

Taekwoon hesitated, then decided to take the risk and reached out so he was cupping Jaehwan’s face, thumb swiping over Jaehwan’s cheekbone. Jaehwan had lost a lot of energy, his skin barely tingled against Taekwoon’s. 

“Thank you,” Taekwoon murmured, and Jaehwan blinked slowly up at him, his eyelids seeming heavy. “I need to go to Hongbin. If you hear anything, if anything goes wrong— I want you to lock yourself in the basement, okay?”

“Okay,” Jaehwan whispered, and he seemed to give up fighting to keep his eyes open, finally letting them shut. 

Taekwoon left him there, hand slipping away from Jaehwan’s cheek gently. He walked back to the kitchen, grabbing his dagger off the table and slipping it out of its sheath. The back door was still ajar, and so Taekwoon tossed the empty leather sheath back onto the table and, with his dagger in his left hand, tonight, went back onto the porch.

Hongbin was right where Taekwoon had left him, standing on the concrete, face upturned to the dark sky. The stars were peeking out, pinpricks because of city smog and light. “You should maybe stay in the house,” Hongbin said, and Taekwoon stopped on the porch steps, the old wood creaking under his weight. Hongbin moved his gaze from the sky so he could look at Taekwoon. “This is obviously a trap already, but I think it will be a more enticing trap if you’re not hovering right near me.”

Taekwoon bit his bottom lip for a moment before asking, “Are you sure you— I don’t mind being bait for this—”

“I’m prettier,” Hongbin said, rolling his eyes. “And I smell nicer. You standing here bleeding and glowering isn’t going to attract anything but mosquitos.” He motioned for Taekwoon to back up. “Stand in the doorway, I’ll need you if it snags me.” 

Taekwoon almost wanted to argue, but the night was deepening, and they needed to set this before any company arrived. So he went back up the stairs and stood in the frame of the back door, just far enough that he was within the magical boundaries of the house. 

Hongbin nodded, a little, and then turned away again, head falling back so he could look at the sky. The only thing that belied his nervousness was the way he kept flicking the butterfly knife open and shut. 

They waited in silence, Taekwoon fighting not to tap nervously on the doorframe. The best case scenario was the vampire would do something similar as it had done on the first attack, that it would saunter up, step right into the trap slow enough that Hongbin would be able to step back as it was stepping in. They wouldn’t need to do anything, then, just leave it until the sun rose. Maybe it was an obvious trap to their eyes but it was wholly possible a vampire would not suspect a true magical snare. They were difficult and expensive to cast, and normally only employed by the VCF. 

If it flickered down quickly, grabbed Hongbin before he could leave it in the confines of the trap— that would be trickier. But the trap was small enough that it would be cornered in it, and Taekwoon didn’t have to kill it, just had to either injure, or distract, it enough that it would let Hongbin go long enough for him to escape. 

Worst case was it saw the trap right off the go and decided to use some sort of weapon to either force Hongbin out of it so he could be easily grabbed, or to simply kill him with a thrown knife even from inside the trap. Taekwoon didn’t think— if the vampire was an Elimia it wouldn’t want to kill so wastefully. But exceptions could always be made, and it really just depended on how pissed off it was. They couldn’t truly predict it. Which was why Taekwoon would have rather been the one standing out under the night sky as bait, but Hongbin had insisted when they’d first been planning. Taekwoon rather thought Hongbin preferred it this way because it was the more dangerous side of the coin, and also because he didn't want it to be on his shoulders if they fucked up and Taekwoon ended up dead. So instead if anything happened to Hongbin, it would rest with Taekwoon.

It took time, and Taekwoon watched Hongbin begin to shift from foot to foot, restless, before finally the house wards prickled, flaring up with a strength and rapidity that unsettled Taekwoon. Hongbin looked around, but Taekwoon would be surprised if he saw anything. You couldn’t see vampires that didn’t want to be seen. 

After one last nervous glance around, Hongbin flicked the butterfly knife open again, making a small cut on his arm and then rubbing the blood that trickled out over his throat. It wasn’t as much as they did usually, but the vampire was close, close enough to disturb the warding on the house, and so close enough to scent even a smaller amount of blood. Then Hongbin closed the blade and set it carefully on the concrete, making himself an open and easy target as he stood there unarmed, the blood on his skin shining wetly in the low light. 

Taekwoon held his breath, and the night was so quiet and still it was if the earth was mimicking him, everything waiting in anticipation. The house wards were positively crackly, which almost made Taekwoon wonder if the vampire wasn’t on the roof. Just as he had that thought, the wind picked up, sending dry leaves skittering across the concrete like mice, and making Hongbin’s hair swirl lightly. 

It was the only real warning they had, before there was a sound, something that may have been a shout, or a cry, but in a voice so alien it almost sounded like the wind was howling somewhere far off. And then there was a blur of motion and the lines of the trap lit up once more, white and bright because it had ensnared what it was designed for. Taekwoon blinked, could see a silhouette, and his heart leapt into his throat, because the creature had come in too quickly and Hongbin was still inside the trap. 

The light dimmed to a subtle glow, enough so that Taekwoon could see Hongbin struggling against the vampire that had hold of him, its face buried against his neck. Hongbin’s arms were wedged between himself and the vampire’s body, but he couldn’t get enough leverage to push away from it. The creature was clutching him close, so caught up in bloodlust it was giving no indication of realizing it had been trapped.

Taekwoon moved to step forward, out of the house, then stuttered, when his brain caught up enough to take note of the fact that this vampire— it wasn’t the same one as before. Its hair was silver, arms paler, and Taekwoon’s entire body went cold. There was more than one.

He hesitated a few more seconds, thoughts flatlining because they hadn’t thought of this and he didn’t know what to _do_. A second vampire wouldn’t step into the trap, and they had no chance out in the open—

“ _Taekwoon_ ,” Hongbin cried, jerking himself hard but the vampire held him firm, and Taekwoon knew it was feeding. It would kill him. He didn’t know where the original vampire was, if it was even here, but he needed to get Hongbin out of the trap, away. 

Taekwoon stepped forward, leaping off the porch. He’d slash at the vampire’s arms, he didn’t need to kill it, just get it to let Hongbin go—

Suddenly it was there, the first vampire, with the dark hair and uptilted eyes, crouching right in his path. Taekwoon skidded to a stop, rearing back because it was close, too close, and everything in his body couldn’t stand the thought of being near it. 

After a beat his brain caught up with his instincts and he made himself still, not stepping back any further, but he couldn’t go forward. His chest heaved, and the dark haired vampire watched him with intent eyes, unmoving. Behind it, Hongbin was struggling, though the efforts were visibly weakening. 

Taekwoon looked to the vampire blocking his path. It was— protecting the other. He had no chance of fighting past it.

“If it kills him,” Taekwoon spat, heart fluttering in such a panicked way he felt ill, “I will let it rot in that trap until the sun rises.”

The vampire in front of him rose out of his crouch, whirling to look at the pair in the trap. “Wonshik, stop that,” it snapped out, and the vampire in the trap, Wonshik, lifted its face away from Hongbin’s neck instantly, like it’d been compulsed. It possibly had been. 

Hongbin was still alive, and still wiggling, and though the vampire had stopped feeding on him, it certainly hadn’t let him go. It looked a bit dazed, mouth smeared with red, but Taekwoon wasn’t sure if that was the spell in Hongbin’s blood actually working to weaken it or if was just slightly drunk on the taste of blood.

The dark haired vampire turned back to look at Taekwoon, and Taekwoon felt his body seizing up at the weight of that gaze. He couldn’t run, he’d never make it back into the house, and he couldn’t leave Hongbin anyway. But trying to fight this creature had been futile last time, and Taekwoon didn’t think it would go any better now. He made himself step forward anyway, because it was all he could do, at this point. 

“Don’t be stupid,” the vampire said, and Taekwoon brought his arm up to swing the dagger at its face. 

It was all a blur to Taekwoon’s slower senses, he was upright and then he wasn’t, tossed onto his back on the concrete. He cried out as the impact hit basically every fucking sore and aching place from the night before. 

The panic scratching under his skin made him sit up quickly even though he was gasping, eyes watering from pain. But the dark haired vampire was exactly where he had been before, standing, lax, several feet in front of the trap. Taekwoon stared up at it, the panic threatening to steal the very air from his lungs. 

“Stupid,” it said again, but it sounded less scathing and more impressed. “You’re a strange sort of hunter.”

Taekwoon felt his face twisting into a snarl, feeling his hatred for this creature bubble up even amidst the fear. Its lips quirked up a little, in something vaguely like a smile, and then its eyes flickered away, looking beyond Taekwoon at the house.

Taekwoon’s stomach dropped even as his head whipped around to see Jaehwan, standing on the porch, one hand resting on the door frame behind him but his body was still decidedly _outside of the house_.

“Get back inside!” Taekwoon shouted, feeling the rush of coldness as all the blood drained from his face. 

Jaehwan moved to step back, but his way was already blocked, and he gave a short cry of surprise at the vampire suddenly looming behind him. The new vampire. Taekwoon got back to his feet, quickly, though the world felt as if it was moving in slow motion. Three. There were three. At least three. 

Jaehwan was stumbling back, away from the tall creature who, thus far, was making no move to touch him, but he was forced to stop because the dark haired vampire flickered to stand at the base of the porch stairs. Jaehwan gave another cry, panicked at being boxed in. 

Taekwoon should move, should take advantage of the trap being unguarded, but he wouldn’t be able to take Hongbin from a vampire that was expecting him. And the dark haired vampire was reaching out, hand coming up to Jaehwan’s eye level, and Taekwoon found himself frozen with fear and horror.

“Hakyeon, he’s a sorcerer,” the tall vampire murmured, and the dark haired vampire, Hakyeon, let its hand drop. “And he’s holding something.”

Hakyeon jerked back, a little, and Taekwoon couldn’t see what Jaehwan had clutched to his chest but he could guess well enough. A vial of blood spelled with sunlight had saved them last time but Taekwoon knew setting one off with Jaehwan right there— it could make Jaehwan go off too. Jaehwan looked at Taekwoon over Hakyeon’s shoulder, eyes so wide the whites flashed in the darkness, and Taekwoon shook his head minutely.

“He smells like the charm,” Hakyeon said. Surprisingly, it took another step back, away from both Jaehwan and the house. But— even if it was willing to tussle with hunters, sorcerers were another matter entirely. They had the potential to be even more lethal. Most sorcerers were bound by laws of neutrality, but perhaps Hakyeon could smell that Jaehwan was covered in their scent, that he lived here, that he was anything but neutral. 

“He smells strange,” was the tall one’s response. It leaned forward a bit to sniff near the nape of Jaehwan’s neck. Jaehwan cringed, shoulders hunching up as if to protect himself, and he squeezed his eyes shut, holding the vial of blood nearer to himself. “He smells _potent_.”

At the words, Hakyeon took another step back, clearly wary. “How did you make that fucking spell?” it asked Jaehwan. “Sunlight can’t be bottled.”

Jaehwan was shaking so hard Taekwoon could see it from halfway across the yard, face pale as paper from fear, but he pressed his lips together, not saying a word. Admitting that he _was_ the spell would mean death, for certain, though Taekwoon wasn’t sure they were getting out of this anyway. 

Hakyeon frowned, clearly unhappy with Jaehwan’s silence but visibly reluctant to press him. It gave Taekwoon a slim ray of hope, if they were afraid of Jaehwan, they could maybe, maybe—

Hakyeon turned away from Jaehwan, stepping toward Taekwoon. Jaehwan moved like he was going to step off the porch, but the tall vampire murmured, “Don’t.” Jaehwan stilled, watching Hakyeon approach Taekwoon with wide eyes.

Taekwoon didn’t move, not when Hakyeon was in front of him, not when the creature circled to stand behind him, even as goosebumps rose all along his skin, the hairs at his nape prickling. He flinched, though, when he felt hands on him, snaking around his waist, until Hakyeon was pressed along his back, its chin resting on Taekwoon’s shoulder so they were both looking towards the porch, the pair standing there.

“You love your friends,” Hakyeon murmured, and its breath stirred Taekwoon’s hair. Taekwoon grit his teeth, all his energy going towards not _screaming_. Hakyeon chuckled, blew air into Taekwoon’s ear before nodding towards Jaehwan. “I think you love that one a little more though.” 

Taekwoon growled, but it was weak. He wondered how he could be on such a pitch of terror for so long. It was exhausting him. His fingertips were numb from how tightly he was gripping his dagger, and he wanted to bring it up, stab it at Hakyeon’s face. But maybe deescalating the situation was a wiser choice. He no longer cared about killing any of the suckers— just about getting Jaehwan and Hongbin back into safety. 

“Your heart’s pounding,” Hakyeon whispered, and Taekwoon shivered, shutting his eyes against the wave of glamour rushing over him. “It sounds pretty.”

“Hakyeon,” came a voice from behind them, Wonshik, the trapped vampire, getting antsy. Taekwoon opened his eyes so he could glance behind him, saw that Hongbin was trying to get his teeth at Wonshik’s— anything. Wonshik was arching away, trying to both keep a strong hold on Hongbin, but not give him opportunity to bite or claw. Hongbin was making small snarling noises, the collar of his shirt soaked in his own blood. Around them, the lines of the trap pulsed with light, like they had a heartbeat of their own.

“I haven’t forgotten you, you knob,” Hakyeon said. It murmured its next words into Taekwoon’s ear, but Taekwoon got the impression it was talking to Jaehwan. “We have a bit of a dilemma, it seems. I need you to let my child out.”

“Your child needs to let Hongbin go first,” Taekwoon spat, and the arms around his waist tightened momentarily.

“Shush, kitten, let me finish,” Hakyeon whispered, and its lips brushed over Taekwoon’s ear as it spoke, and Taekwoon jerked his head away. “I have no desire to fight with a sorcerer, not like this. If you let my child out, we’ll go.”

Jaehwan touched a hand to one of the porch’s support beams, like he was near collapsing. “Let my friends go,” he murmured. “And I’ll let your child go.”

“I keep this one for leverage,” Hakyeon said, hand splaying across Taekwoon’s stomach, “but we’ll let the pretty one go. Wonshik.” 

There was the sound of shuffling, and then Hakyeon turned both Taekwoon and itself around to see Hongbin falling to the concrete, bloody from the bite, ruffled, and more pissed off than a hornet’s nest but blessedly alive. He snatched up the butterfly knife and scrambled to his feet, like he was going to attack, but Taekwoon said sharply, “Hongbin, go back in the house.”

Hongbin whipped to stare at him, half of his face illuminated from the glow of the snare, the other half in darkness. “Taek.”

Taekwoon swallowed. “Please, go back inside,” he whispered.

Hongbin looked wretched, but he obeyed, motions jerky. Taekwoon could hear Jaehwan moving off the porch, even as Hongbin moved onto it. When Jaehwan came back into Taekwoon’s line of sight, he was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering, and he looked arguably worse this close up. The tall vampire followed on his heels, hovering, guarding him. It didn’t seem as wary as Hakyeon did, but then, it hadn’t felt the force of Jaehwan’s magic like Hakyeon had.

Jaehwan looked to Taekwoon, like he wanted permission, instruction, but Taekwoon couldn’t give it. When Taekwoon gave him nothing, Jaehwan looked at Hakyeon. “I want a promise,” Jaehwan said.

“I’ll let you all go tonight,” Hakyeon murmured immediately. “Let my child out and we’ll leave.”

“It is binding,” Jaehwan whispered, and Taekwoon could feel the weight of the words. Promises were heavy things, especially when made with a sorcerer. 

Hakyeon didn’t reply, and Jaehwan sighed, kneeling beside the glowing circle of the trap. The tall vampire watched him with an intensity Taekwoon didn’t like, eyes appraising. Jaehwan took the spell chalk out from his pant pocket, drew a line from the center of the circle to the outer edge, breaking it. He placed a hand over the new line, eyes closing as he murmured out words in a language Taekwoon didn’t understand. 

It took maybe ten seconds, but then the light of the trap faded out as the spell died. Jaehwan opened his eyes and as he did so Wonshik set his foot out of the trap, showing that he was, truly, free. 

Hakyeon let Taekwoon go, stepping to the side so he was beside Taekwoon instead, his hand resting lightly on the small of Taekwoon’s lower back, as if he was trying to remind Taekwoon to be good. 

Taekwoon barely noticed, because he was watching Jaehwan. Jaehwan, who was somehow even paler, diminished, skin sallow and frame shaking hard enough to fall apart. He took a second, struggling to get his feet under himself so he could stand.

“Now,” Jaehwan murmured, finally standing, swaying as he did so, “now—”

And then he was swaying too far, eyes fluttering shut as he crumpled. Hakyeon shot forward to grab the vial of blood before it could shatter on the concrete, and the tall vampire moved to grab Jaehwan himself, catching him in its arms. The chalk fell, cracking into dust. 

Taekwoon made a noise, utterly involuntary, of pure distress. Hakyeon drifted back to Taekwoon’s side, examining the vial of blood in its hand, and the tall vampire knelt, so Jaehwan could lay unconscious across its lap, head lolled back, the long line of his neck exposed. As Taekwoon watched, the vampire’s fangs slid out.

He stepped forward, automatically shifting his grip on his dagger. “No—”

Hakyeon grabbed Taekwoon by the wrist to stop him, grip like an iron shackle, and the tall vampire murmured, “I won’t.” It smoothed Jaehwan’s hair away from his face. “I won’t.”

“Killing him would be wise,” Hakyeon said, and Taekwoon tried to rip his hand from Hakyeon’s grasp, but Hakyeon held him firm. “I’m not going to, kitten, I made a promise.”

“He’s only got a few months more, anyway,” the one called Wonshik murmured, and the tall vampire made a little noise. “He smells like death.” 

Taekwoon didn’t know how to react to that, and was saved the trouble. 

“Assholes, let my friends go,” Hongbin called from the house, and Taekwoon turned to see him standing just inside the back door. “I will find a way to kill all of you if you don’t.” Wonshik was staring at Hongbin, and as Taekwoon watched, it licked its lips. 

“I got what I came for,” Hakyeon said, glancing down at the vial of blood in its hand, and then it let Taekwoon’s wrist go. It was beside Wonshik in a heartbeat, grabbing Wonshik’s wrist instead and tugging the creature along. Wonshik was still looking at Hongbin, like it wanted to finish the job it had started. “Come,” Hakyeon said, and Wonshik moved, following. The tall vampire didn’t, though, eyes roving over Jaehwan’s face, his neck. “Sanghyuk, I said come.”

The tall vampire, Sanghyuk, still paused, a moment, then it was laying Jaehwan down fully on the concrete with a gentleness that surprised Taekwoon. And then the three of them were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been slowly perishing from the heat bUT HERE IS UR UPDATE. At least it didn’t take 4 weeks this time lol.

The vial caught the candlelight, its contents blazing red and reflecting off the gleaming surface of Hakyeon’s black marble countertops. 

“It’s taunting me,” Hakyeon hissed, face pressed close to the vial as he squinted. The wax seal at the top had been broken, the small cork pulled out. The smell of blood wafted over to him thickly, blood and magic, and, weirdly, the sickly sweet smell of vampire, of death. “It’s blood, I don’t think there is anything else mixed in, so it isn’t a potion. But why does it smell like vampire?”

“Could be the magic,” Sanghyuk said, coming further into the room to stick his nose nearer the vial. 

Hakyeon sat on a wooden stool by the island in his kitchen, a room perhaps pointlessly large for a vampire dwelling. But they’d kept feeders here in the past, and he liked them to be well kept. He’d even recently refurbished it, the appliances all a matching polished chrome. His children teased him about how often he redecorated, but he knew they didn’t want to feel as if they were living in a crypt any more than he did. Living underground they were already at a disadvantage for that. And he’d be damned before his home smelled stale.

Wonshik was poking in the tall double-doored fridge, stocked with various beverages and, for them, blood in small plastic bags. Hakyeon opted to snip the edges of the bags and pour the contents into a glass, but Wonshik was a savage, and simply tore holes into them with straws, drinking from them directly.

“If it’s a spell aimed at vampires,” Wonshik said around his straw, sauntering over to stand beside them, “could it have vampire energy infused in it as a sort of tracking system?” 

“Perhaps,” Sanghyuk murmured. He knew more about magic than Hakyeon, who had given up the craft when he’d died, and his magic had died along with him. Sanghyuk was never a sorcerer but he’d developed a great love of studying the subject, in his undead afterlife. And the both of them could run laps around Wonshik on the subject, who’d spent his time doing lord only knew what. “But the issue is— for such a thing to exist in the spell, there would have to be some kind of essence from a vampire in it, probably from a blood sample.” He leaned down, sniffing at the open vial lightly with a cute frown between his brows. Hakyeon reached out, poking at the ripple in his brow and cooing a little. Sanghyuk smacked his hand away and straightened again. “Perhaps it is some sort of cocktail of both human and vampire blood. It does seem like Hakyeon is right— it seems to be just blood, no outside contaminants.”

“But how can it be nothing but blood?” Wonshik asked softly, staring down at the vial. He had lingering traces of blood between his teeth from his snacking. Hakyeon was glad he didn’t seem any worse for wear after taking a dose of that siren spell in the hunter’s blood— stupid Wonshik, for falling for it. But spells like that varied in effect for vampire to vampire. With Hakyeon it had been a sweet calling, soft and tempting— but perhaps for Wonshik it felt like a fiery thirst, a sandstorm. Wonshik couldn’t be blamed if it had hit him especially hard. “Spells need— they need shape, I always thought. They need something to house them, somewhere to go. And this isn’t a charm, it’s just— blood. Wouldn’t it _have_ to be a potion?”

“Theoretically,” Hakyeon said. He carefully picked the vial up, wedging the stopper back in. He wanted to taste it— but he wasn’t sure what the blood would do if it touched him directly. If it truly was just blood. 

“Could the sorcerer be strong enough to make such a spell with nothing more than a small sample of blood?” Wonshik asked in a small whisper. “It— it doesn’t seem like something that should be possible.”

“It’s doesn’t,” Hakyeon said with a sigh, putting the vial back onto the counter with a small _clink_. “But this spell itself shouldn’t be possible either.” 

Sunlight couldn’t be bottled— or rather, the magical energy the sun radiated couldn’t be replicated. Sorcerers had bottled light in the past, but it wasn’t the same, because it wasn’t the light itself — or the light alone — that harmed a vampire. It was the magical energy that bled off their blazing star. Vampiric energy simply couldn’t handle being exposed to it. And it had always been lucky for vampires that sunlight energy could only ever come from the sun, it couldn’t be made or generated, transformed from human energy.

“Any spell is possible,” Sanghyuk said, a little too chipper for Hakyeon’s liking. At the glare Hakyeon sent his way, Sanghyuk continued, “Really. Magic is an amazing thing, it can truly do _anything_ — the issue is always in the logistics. It’s limited to the energy of the caster, among other things.”

“Then let me rephrase,” Hakyeon said softly, pointing at the vial. “Sunlight energy has never been bottled before— we know it has been tried, but it’s never taken. The sheer volume of magical energy and— and— lord knows what else it would require to generate a spell like this is simply unachievable. If it wasn’t, vampires would have been eradicated centuries ago.” Hakyeon’s voice rose slightly in agitation as he spoke. “So why now? Is there a planetary alignment I am unaware of? A passing herd of celestial unicorns?” 

“Hakyeon,” Wonshik said, corners of his mouth curling slightly. He seemed a little droopy-eyed; maybe he was still a bit blood drunk. Hakyeon didn’t care. 

“Neither of you are nearly as concerned about this as you should be,” Hakyeon snapped. “This could be _bad_ , if it is something replicable. If it gets out— the VCF armed with sunlight could put a serious dent in our numbers.” 

Over the island, Wonshik and Sanghyuk shared a meaningful look that had Hakyeon already bristling. “What?” he snapped. “What is that look for?”

“We’ve been wondering,” Wonshik said slowly, “if, well, maybe—”

“Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk interrupted, voice stronger than Wonshik’s, “tonight you led us to a run down home where two young hunters and an equally young, seemingly untrained, sorcerer lived. Granted he smelled potent, brimming with energy, and he was talented enough to set that vampire trap, so clearly even if he is untrained, he has— formidable abilities.” Sanghyuk gestured to the vial on the counter, innocuous for all its power. “But this is just— blood. And, don’t get me wrong, we all know blood can do a great many things in spellwork, but we can’t help but wonder if—”

“If?” Hakyeon asked softly, dangerously. 

“Could it have simply been an energy blast— a human energy blast?” Wonshik said, and Hakyeon scowled at him. “I know, I know, you’re old enough that most wards and charms hunters carry shouldn’t have such an affect on you— but Hakyeon, if this has vampire and sorcerer blood in it— maybe it would?”

Hakyeon puffed himself up, knowing he looked hardly imposing at all with his softer, slim frame. “I know what I saw— in that nano fucking second before I was blinded because it burned my eyeballs out of my skull. It was sunlight. It wouldn’t have been able to cause that much damage to me if it wasn’t.” He hadn’t gone through centuries of rigid self-discipline to become an Elimia just to end up so weak against an ordinary energy blast. 

“Debatable,” Sanghyuk muttered, and Hakyeon glared at him so hard his hair should have sizzled right off his head. Sanghyuk held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I’m just saying. The sorcerer seemed unregistered but sometimes I find the ones that are off the books are the most dangerous. Not simply for lack of training, but also _because_ that lack of instruction makes them a lot more likely to experiment.” His eyes went a little glazed as he thought, tone going a bit breathy. “And he’s reckless, as reckless as the hunters. To faint after a spell— he doesn’t know his own limits, or if he does, he doesn’t care.”

“He’s very young,” Wonshik input. “Young and dying, probably from a spell gone wrong, to be honest. Maybe this spell.” Wonshik nodded to the vial, and Sanghyuk’s eyes downcast, fingertips tapping on the countertop. “Maybe casting it over and over is killing him. It is a _lot_ of energy.” 

“Stupid,” Sanghyuk whispered. 

“They’re all stupid,” Hakyeon said. An untrained sorcerer, a human laced with a siren spell, and a hunter that was trying to take on the world with raw anger rather than skill. A beautiful hunter. “Maybe casting the spell over and over _is_ what is killing him— but you’re wrong about the spell itself. It is sunlight. I don’t know how he is doing it, but somehow, he is.”

Again, Sanghyuk and Wonshik looked at one another. “Perhaps,” Wonshik acquiesced, but Hakyeon could tell he wasn’t convinced. “They’re an interesting lot, definitely not at all what I was expecting— I was worried, that we were going to find that we were going up against undercover VCF, or one of the Elders from the Sorcerery Society. But they were all so _young_ , and— worn somehow. They seem to be utterly freelance, not just the sorcerer but the hunters too— they’re also untrained, they’re just running around armed with whatever that sorcerer has made for him. This is going to sound odd, but I could taste him, a bit, in the blood of the one that I bit. He’s the one who cast the siren spell.”

“I hope the taste was worth the embarrassment of falling for such a basic trap,” Sanghyuk snickered and Wonshik glared at him. “I do wonder what their relationship is, their motives.” 

“As do I,” Hakyeon said. He thought of the way Taekwoon looked up at the sorcerer from across the yard, that soft, vulnerable little noise he’d made when the sorcerer fainted. Lovers, perhaps, Hakyeon thought sourly. 

“Oh no, I know that look,” Sanghyuk whispered theatrically, leaning across the counter towards Wonshik in a motion of mock-confidentiality. 

Wonshik smiled. “He’s not exactly subtle.”

Hakyeon scowled, snatching the vial up and then sliding off the stool so he was standing. Both his children were taller than him, it wasn’t _fair_. “My master has asked I visit him tomorrow night,” Hakyeon said, with as much dignity as he could muster when his children were staring at him with such levels of patronization. “I’m going to relay what has happened, and see if he cannot give any more insight. You two will come along.”

“Yes, master,” Wonshik said, rolling his eyes. He took a pointed sip of his bag, the straw gurgling as the blood ran out. 

Hakyeon sniffed, turning to sweep out of the room, when Sanghyuk murmured, “Hakyeon.” It made Hakyeon turn, a quizzical arch to his brow. “I’m glad you’ve found someone you’re interested in again.” The _finally_ was implied, and Hakyeon chose to ignore it. 

“Perhaps,” Hakyeon said softly, gaze going down to the vial in his hand. He could see the hunter’s eyes looking at him, dark, intense, full of so much fire and anger. Hakyeon twirled the vial in his hands. “Perhaps.”

——

Hongbin was tapping his foot against the concrete floor of the basement in agitation, and Taekwoon was too tired to ask him to stop again. 

“You should sit,” Taekwoon whispered to him, like Jaehwan was sleeping, like he might wake if they were too loud. He wasn’t sleeping, but the illusion was there, his face peaceful in unconsciousness. Taekwoon had put him to bed, carrying him to the basement himself, because Hongbin was weakened, even if he was refusing to admit it. He was lucky he didn’t need a blood transfusion, but he still looked pale and drawn. 

“You’ve got the prime spot,” Hongbin said, a little bitter for reasons Taekwoon didn’t know. He looked up at Hongbin in bafflement, ready to stand— he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, beside Jaehwan’s tucked in form, but Hongbin motioned at him sharply, and he stilled. Hongbin just looked away, pushing off from the wall he’d been leaned up against to go to Jaehwan’s desk and folding himself into the hard wooden chair there. He didn’t look any more relaxed sitting than he had standing, but at least now he wasn’t looming over Taekwoon like some kind of vengeful spirit. 

Hongbin poked at the jars on Jaehwan’s desk, lips pressed together, and Taekwoon sighed. “I already said I’m sorry,” Taekwoon murmured. “Do you want me to say it again?”

“I’m not mad at you,” Hongbin said, in a tone that said anything but. “I’m mad at the situation.”

“We lived,” Taekwoon said softly, and Hongbin shot him a sharp look. “It is a victory, Hongbin. If nothing else, we survived.” Taekwoon was trying, very hard, to see the bright side to this even though it looked bleak. Jaehwan was breathing beside him, the sound soft and even. They had escaped with the important things.

“And what about when they come back— with more of them, with weapons, with fire—”

“They wouldn’t kill us so loudly,” Taekwoon said, strained. He didn’t think they would, anyway. In a town with so few eventful supernatural deaths, such an attack would be difficult to overlook and would surely bring the VCF to investigate a bit more thoroughly. No, if they were to die, it would be more stealthily. “I— I hope they have enough fear of Jaehwan as a sorcerer to know better than to try.”

Hongbin’s gaze moved from Taekwoon to Jaehwan, and his eyes softened, just a little, pain showing through the anger. “Jaehwan isn’t a threat.”

“He is,” Taekwoon said. “They don’t know he— he can’t do much, not without harming himself.” They would have to work to hide it, but perhaps if they did so, they would have a chance. 

Hongbin tapped his foot on the floor. Again. “They did seem more interested in the spell than us,” he said, tone musing. “I guess it is— threatening. Maybe enough to keep them at bay.”

Taekwoon nodded shortly, wanting to hope. He could not know what would happen next— the vampires would return, surely. They must. The thought made him feel so cold, hands going clammy. The leader had— touched him, and Taekwoon knew he would feel that mouth on his skin in his nightmares. 

He was worried they would come back and kill them. He was worried they would come back and _not_ kill them. 

To vampires, Jaehwan’s abilities would be an asset, if they could get him on a leash. Hongbin’s blood would be a novelty, worth a high price, and Taekwoon— Taekwoon would simply be good play fodder. Taekwoon didn’t want any of them to die for this, but he was afraid of the alternatives. Their one chip was the spell, but if the vampires worked out the secret themselves—

“They took the vial of blood, the spell,” Taekwoon whispered. “What are the chances they’ll be able to puzzle it out?”

Hongbin frowned, quiet in thought, and before he could open his mouth to reply, a third voice broke in.

“Doubtful,” Jaehwan rasped, and Taekwoon whipped around to look down at him. Jaehwan was blinking slowly up at the ceiling, eyes a bit unfocused. “It’s nothing but blood. It will confuse them, but— they won’t figure it out. It’s not something that I think has ever been done before, or rather— it’s probably happened before, but no one else lived through it. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Jae,” Taekwoon whispered, leaning over him, gently stroking Jaehwan’s hair away from his face, and it made the image of that vampire doing the same motion flash through Taekwoon’s mind. Jaehwan looked at him, making an effort to focus. “Are you—”

“I’m okay,” Jaehwan said, eyes so soft. “I fainted.”

“Astute observation,” Hongbin called from across the room, and Taekwoon took a moment to count to five in his head. 

Jaehwan blinked up at Taekwoon. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Taekwoon murmured, and he prayed Hongbin would keep his mouth shut for once. Jaehwan didn’t need to know that vampire had touched him, had put his hands on him, had gotten far too close to his throat with fangs. And he didn’t need to know what the other had said, about Jaehwan having only a few months left. He didn’t need to know. “After you fainted the leader took the vial and they all left.”

“The promise is fulfilled then,” Jaehwan whispered. “I should have had the foresight to make them promise to leave us alone indefinitely— but I wasn’t exactly firing on all engines.”

Taekwoon shook his head a little, still stroking Jaehwan's hair back, feeling the very soft fizz of him against his skin. "You saved us," Taekwoon whispered, and Hongbin made a soft coughing noise that Taekwoon chose to ignore. "I'm sorry." He was sorry for everything. They followed him everywhere, always, and this was where it had taken them. 

Taekwoon seemed to simply be leading them into death. 

“We’ve all made our choices, Taek,” Jaehwan said, seeming to read Taekwoon’s thoughts. “We’re all here because we chose to be.”

 _You’re here_ , Taekwoon thought, _you’re dying, because you wanted to protect me_. 

Jaehwan reached up, grabbing Taekwoon’s forearm, and even through the material of Taekwoon’s sweater, Jaehwan’s hand there _burned_ in an echo. It was a scar now, but it would always react. “I almost killed you, too,” Jaehwan whispered, eyes a bit harder now. “So don’t.” 

“Not the same.” Taekwoon had recovered. And Jaehwan never could. 

There was a sharp scraping sound, Hongbin shoving his chair away from Jaehwan’s desk. It made Taekwoon’s teeth hurt, goosebumps rising on his skin, and Jaehwan winced. 

“I’ll leave you two to it, shall I?” Hongbin snapped. Taekwoon looked at him reproachfully, but Hongbin was already making for the short staircase that went back up into the main part of the house. “Maybe once you’re done making love eyes at each other you can try and brainstorm how to get us out of this? That’d be nice.”

Taekwoon felt his cheeks heating up, shame making him feel sick. He determinately didn’t look at Jaehwan. “Hongbin,” Taekwoon said, the reprimand heavy in his voice.

Hongbin stuttered, just for a second, then he was moving again. He didn’t look back at them. “I have work tonight, I can’t call out again,” he muttered, “I need to sleep. And dawn is soon.”

Work. Yes. The world would keep on turning. “My boss gave me a few days off,” Taekwoon said. “I think I’ll stay down here for the day.”

“Of course you will,” Hongbin said bitterly, pushing the hidden panel open and up so he could climb out. 

“Do you want me to make love eyes at you too?” Jaehwan called out, voice cracking around the edges. “Do you feel neglected—”

Hongbin was up and out of the basement, and he let the hidden panel slam shut behind himself, cutting Jaehwan off. The loud noise set Taekwoon on edge, and all of a sudden, he had the urge to cry. He still couldn’t look at Jaehwan without fear of betraying himself.

Jaehwan shuffled a little, sniffing, and Taekwoon braced himself. But all Jaehwan said was, “He’s afraid.” Taekwoon made himself relax a little. “That’s why he gets so— like that.”

“I know,” Taekwoon whispered. Still— Taekwoon would have to have words with him. There were some spots Hongbin should know better than to poke at.

“I’m afraid too,” Jaehwan said, and Taekwoon had to glance at him. Jaehwan didn’t look— like anything, he simply seemed matter of fact. “More for you two, than myself—”

“Don’t,” Taekwoon interrupted. “Don’t start.”

Jaehwan fell silent, biting his bottom lip. He had pretty lips, soft and full. Warm. Taekwoon would know.

“All we’ve done these past few years is go day by day, scrape by, survive,” Jaehwan finally whispered. “This isn’t exactly any different— this room is a veritable magical bomb shelter, we can spend our nights here until we figure something else out. You’ll just have to give up hunting in the meantime.”

Taekwoon was sore and tired, and too frightened to think about hunting. The memory of icy hands on him was still too fresh. He didn’t know how Hongbin could _stand_ it. “For now, that’s probably a good temporary solution,” Taekwoon said with a sigh. “Trying to trap it— that was probably a dumb idea.”

“It wasn’t, actually. It would have worked, if there had only been one, but we couldn’t have known to expect a pack.” Jaehwan said, and Taekwoon didn’t know what to say to that. 

He liked to think it hadn’t been a completely foolish idea, that it wasn’t always his fault. He loved— them. He loved them, he didn’t want to be the reason they were always hurt. 

Jaehwan stared at him for a long moment, gaze level. He was the one to break the silence. “You’re lying to me,” he murmured, and Taekwoon’s stomach swooped guiltily. “You left something out. The vampires—”

Oh. “It’s nothing important,” Taekwoon said quickly. 

“If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be omitting it.” Jaehwan attempted to use his elbows to sit up, but Taekwoon could see the strain in him, the way he shook, and he gave up fairly quickly, flopping back onto the bed with an annoyed huff. “I will get it out of Hongbin if you don’t tell me.” 

“Please, Jae,” Taekwoon whispered. “Let me protect you.”

Jaehwan stared at him. “Vampires are odd creatures,” he whispered. “Walking death. They could tell, couldn’t they? That I too am walking death.” 

Taekwoon didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. Jaehwan made a little noise, some twisted mockery of a laugh, and he turned his face away from Taekwoon. Even turned away, Taekwoon could see Jaehwan swallowing, see the way he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehwan said thickly. “I shouldn’t— say things like—”

“You don’t have to lie to me either,” Taekwoon said. He’d almost rather see it coming. Would it make it less painful, he wondered. A couple months, they’d said, a couple months. He wondered if Jaehwan knew he had so little time left. 

Jaehwan didn’t reply to that, and in the long silence that stretched on, Taekwoon stood, going to turn the lights off and plunge them into utter darkness.

——

Hongbin slept. He dreamed of teeth sharp as razors digging against his neck, across it, his blood raging out in thick warm sheets. It was an old dream. And he slept even through it, right up until his alarm went off in the early afternoon. 

He sat in his bed for a long time, blankets tangled around his legs as sunlight came in as strangled streams, leaking from between bent blinds. It was so quiet. Hongbin liked quiet, but he liked peaceful quiet. Not this. The quiet of emptiness.

Taekwoon must have made good on his word, staying in the basement for the day, standing guard over Jaehwan like that would save him. The two of them— but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t his business, it didn’t _affect_ him. Taekwoon loved Hongbin, so did Jaehwan. So it didn’t matter. 

He ate cereal, even though it was afternoon already, chewing slowly in the light pouring in from the windows. His burns were— there. Still pink in spots, beginning to peel in others. They didn’t look bad, didn’t look like he’d done anything more than gone for a long walk without sunscreen. He turned his hand over, feeling the warmth of the sunlight on his skin, then looked to the pantry door. It was closed, as it had to be during daylight hours.

Hongbin swallowed thickly, picking his bowl up and putting it in the sink. 

Taekwoon tucked underground for the day meant Hongbin got to drive himself to work. He felt a bit— lightheaded, weak, but he did not faint on the short drive, so, that was a plus. 

The old ladies tutted over him, fussing, and Hongbin tried, he did, let the Lord be his witness that he _tried_. But his mind was— on the vampires, the way the leader’s hands had lingered on Taekwoon, the strength in the hands of the vampire that had held Hongbin himself. And Jaehwan, cornered and terrified, then unconscious and vulnerable. Hongbin could see the targets, on all three of them. This had already become something more.

It took two hours, two hours of cranky, half-assed service for his boss to send him home. It was a testament to how shitty Hongbin must look that his boss seemed less angry and a lot more concerned, his well-lined face heavy with worry. 

Maybe he should be glad for the reprieve, but as he climbed back into the car, he found he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to go home, to the seemingly empty house, his thoughts the only things to keep him company. It was too much, his mind was too crowded, and he wanted out of it. 

“Fuck,” he said, then louder, “ _Fuck_.” He’d been driving near the park, and he swerved off the road onto the dirt shoulder, hitting the brakes so hard he skidded a little. 

A few months.

Hongbin was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles had gone white, and, slowly, he lowered his face until his forehead rested on the wheel too. He’d known, on some level, things were bad. But he hadn’t really believed they would be losing Jaehwan so soon. 

And that was if the spell killed him, and not the vampires. 

Maybe it would be more merciful if the vampires took them. Hongbin knew the glamour could be sweet, and sometimes, in moments like this one, he craved that soft oblivion that only a vampire could give. When the spell eventually ate its way through Jaehwan— Hongbin wasn’t sure if a fast death wouldn’t be better. But that wasn’t his decision to make, and the thought of finally losing Jaehwan, after years of fighting it—

The first tear fell onto his thigh, and Hongbin wiped at his face roughly. Crying wouldn’t help. Hongbin didn’t think anything could, at this point. There was nothing to be done. Not for any of them. 

He sat there for a long time, turning the engine off to save gas. Maybe he just needed the feeling of that strange sort of isolation, separation, being in a car alone brought on. The thoughts were still there, but he felt detached as they all flickered through his mind. 

By the time the sun was touching the horizon, he felt capable of going home without screaming himself hoarse. He turned the car back on, knowing it would be better if he was back inside the house before dark settled in. They couldn’t know what to expect.

The sky was still vibrantly pink when he pulled into the driveway, and no one came to greet him, but he hadn’t expected anyone would. Taekwoon wouldn’t come up until he was sure night had fallen, wouldn’t risk exposing Jaehwan to sunlight. 

He knew this, he knew it, and yet when he stepped into the dim living room he had that _feeling_ , that awful feeling that he was looking into his future. Alone in this dark house, Jaehwan and Taekwoon gone. Hongbin had never had any magical inclinations, he definitely wasn’t a seer, so he knew it was just— the fears deep in his heart, manifesting. 

Hongbin breathed deeply, heart pounding even though he knew it was stupid to be so unsettled. He made himself lock the front door behind himself, put the keys on the hook beside the door. Taekwoon and Jaehwan were fine, they were in the basement, and he could see them, he could go get them, the sun was out of the sky. He wasn’t alone.

Hongbin strode through the living room and to the kitchen just a little too quickly to be considered walking, yanking the pantry open like a small child would open their closet door, anticipating something lurking. The red light was off, and Hongbin knelt, pulling the hidden door up. It was pitch black down there, which was usual, but it still caused Hongbin a stab of unease. He didn’t like not— not knowing what would be there when he turned the light on—

“Guys?” he called softly, stepping down carefully, feeling for the stairs with his feet. No one answered him, and he knew it was fine, he _knew_ , but his brain was almost too afraid to turn the light on, for fear of what he would find. Or not find. 

He hopped down the last few stairs, whacking at the wall to feel for the light switch, flicking it on quickly as his heart raced.

There was no blood, no nest of monsters waiting; more than that, the room wasn’t empty, his loves disappeared without a trace. No, they were there, Jaehwan and Taekwoon, sleeping side by side in Jaehwan’s narrow bed. Jaehwan looked like he was being smothered, but other than that, all seemed well. 

Hongbin felt all his tension leave him. He went to the side of the bed, looked down at the sleeping pair, took note of Taekwoon’s arms around Jaehwan’s waist, and sighed heavily.

This was all so bad.

——

It was still early when they left their home, coming up from the spelled entrance in their local park, early enough that Wonshik was still sleepy eyed, Sanghyuk whiny. Hakyeon inhaled the cool night air, unbothered by the cold temperature, and prayed for patience. 

He led the way, flickering over dirt paths and under trees that were going barren as winter settled in. Their footfalls were quiet, even as they fell on dry leaves, muffled by magic. Hakyeon was glad his advice had been heeded, and his maker had purchased a house at the other end of the sprawling park grounds, where the properties had large swathes of land, heavy with trees. They didn’t need the cover, per se, but it was always good to help thwart nosy neighbors. Though the residences over here were the pricier kind, and rich people hardly ever gave a shit about their neighbors one way or another, unless they were disturbing them somehow. 

They didn’t go out onto the paved road when they came to it, winding and slim, choosing instead to flit through the trees at its side as they followed it up into the hills. There were houses, tucked away from the road, high gates guarding them. On a few of them Hakyeon could feel the warding quite sharply as they passed, and Wonshik hissed like he’d been burned. The sound blended with the sighing of the leaves above their heads.

It didn’t take them long to come across the gate that ran along Hakyeon’s maker’s new property, and it had warding of a different sort, equally potent. Hakyeon leapt over the gate, feeling as he was engulfed in the spell that sat as a dome over the whole property. It wasn’t unpleasant per se, just a tingling, enough to know it was working. 

Sanghyuk and Wonshik landed beside him. “That’s a nice piece of magic,” Sanghyuk whispered, looking up. From inside the perimeter of the gate, the bubble of warding made everything outside of it look distorted, like they were staring at the moon through warped glass. “Must have cost a pretty penny.”

“This whole thing cost a pretty penny,” Hakyeon said simply, opting to walk at a normal speed up the driveway, paved with pale grey gravel, still smelling of quarry. The house loomed ahead of them, two stories high and sprawling, like a lazy giant. Aside from its size it wasn’t anything to look twice at over, and out here such large houses weren’t exactly a rarity. It was done up in cool greys, the accent plants around a lush green that matched well with the expanse of lawn in the front yard. Nothing to look twice at indeed.

He would know they were here, but no one came out to greet them. Unsurprising— the place wasn’t open for business yet. And it wasn’t like any other vampires would come visit just for fun, and certainly not without an invitation. 

Hakyeon led them away from the main entrance, around to the side of the house— he’d been here on more than one occasion already, but this would be the first time either of his children had seen the place. There was the front entrance, a large set of double doors, and a side door by the garage, innocuous and slim, and then a sliding glass back door that led onto a wrap around porch. There were, of course, other exits, but one had to be inside the house to get to them. 

It was the side door he took them to, it opened at his touch and let them into a cramped foyer, not meant for the guests to see. But Hakyeon would know every inch of this place, it was soon to be his, and what was his was his childrens’. 

A few lights were on, dialed down to lower settings so as to be easy on their eyes. Hakyeon took them through a short hallway and led them into the main entrance hall, much prettier, with side tables and vases that would hold flowers, but for now remained empty. Just as they were entering the entrance hall, so was his master, coming in from the main hallway that led to the lounging parlours. He was dabbing at the corners of his mouth primly with a handkerchief that came away spotted with red.

“Hakyeon,” Kyungsoo said once his mouth was clean, and he tucked his handkerchief away in a pocket of his overlarge sweatpants. Along with an equally overlarge shirt, they were all he was wearing, his small bare feet poking out of the hem of his pants. He smiled as Hakyeon approached him, cheeks bunching and eyes turning to crescents, his hair fanning softly over his face. “You’re a bit early.”

Hakyeon bent down, relatively far, to gently kiss Kyungsoo’s cheek, his skin smooth and cool. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but some things have come up, and I was anxious to speak with you,” Hakyeon said, pulling away.

“Oh?” Kyungsoo asked. He tipped his head, looking past Hakyeon at Wonshik and Sanghyuk, who were hanging back like some kind of awkward tumors.

“It doesn’t have to do with them, exactly,” Hakyeon said, though Kyungsoo wasn’t paying attention, too busy beckoning them forward. Sanghyuk came happily, and he _really_ had to bend down to give Kyungsoo his haven’t-seen-you-in-a-literal-decade hug. Wonshik waited until Sanghyuk stepped back before kissing Kyungsoo on the top of his head, which made Kyungsoo squint, but he let it pass without a quip.

“It is good to see you both here,” Kyungsoo said, eyes curved from his smile. “And still only two of you? I’m surprised, and will owe Sehun money for it.”

Hakyeon scowled, which made Kyungsoo laugh, the sound echoing around the hall. “I told you I hadn’t made any others,” Hakyeon said. 

“You aren’t above lying to me though, when you know I am going to laugh at you for something.”

Hakyeon felt his nostrils flare, and was saved having to retort by the movement at the far end of the hall. He’d heard the heartbeat faintly as soon as he’d entered the house — he made a mental note to talk to Kyungsoo about silencing charms — but it was much stronger now, footsteps coming along with it, soft breathing. 

Kyungsoo turned, smiled still on his face, and he held out his hand. “Don’t be shy,” he said, and the human stepped forward, shoulders a little hunched and movements slow. It wasn’t from fear, Hakyeon knew— Jongin had been a feeder for years, and Kyungsoo took him everywhere. It was, probably, from his lack of clothing, sweatpants slung low on his hips and nothing more, fresh bite marks shining wetly at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. 

Jongin took Kyungsoo’s hand when he reached him, smiling shyly at Hakyeon and nodding his head in greeting. He was a very pretty thing, and very much his master’s type. Kyungsoo definitely favored boys with skin kissed by the sun, boys with narrow shoulders, feminine waists, and strong legs. Dancers, wild things. Hakyeon had been like that, too.

“Sanghyuk, Wonshik,” Hakyeon said, glancing at them, “this is Jongin, Kyungsoo picked him up in southern Italy about five years ago.” It was strange; these five years had been nothing, Kyungsoo was prone to frolicking off here or there for long periods of time. This particular trip had been to Europe. But while it was typical for Hakyeon, a casual thing to not see his maker for a decade here and there, five years had probably been at least a fifth of this human’s lifespan. 

“Kyungsoo has told me a lot about you all,” Jongin said softly. 

“I’m sure he has,” Sanghyuk said, in a tone which implied he knew Kyungsoo was probably talking shit. 

Kyungsoo grinned at him, fangs a little run out. “Shall we take this conversation to one of the parlours? It is rude to dawdle in doorways, or, well, entrance halls. And the parlours are fully furnished now, we actually have places to sit and converse.” That was good news— if the place was truly finished, they could move the feeders in soon. And then open. But first they had to tie up this loose end. 

Hakyeon motioned for Kyungsoo to lead the way, and his master did, still holding Jongin’s hand. He took them down the main hall, bypassing the swooping staircase that led up to the bedrooms. They passed two closed doors, going into the third and last room of the hall. It was the smallest parlour, but Hakyeon supposed this wasn’t business, and no one here needed to be impressed.

It was still a decent sized room, with furniture that blended function with form. The chairs looked comfortable, welcoming in a way that invited one to sit and rest. Everything in the room, much like the rest of the house, had been chosen to showcase modern styling without sacrificing anything of comfort. The last thing they wanted was to put people in mind of the old trappings of vampires, with their gothic castles and dark, dim rooms. 

Kyungsoo took the largest chair, Jongin half sitting on the arm of it prettily. Hakyeon took the other chair, not as big and not as padded, but still serviceable. The couch was pretty, but on the smaller side, and neither Sanghyuk nor Wonshik were on the smaller side. They made do, sitting side by side, looking like a pair of overgrown children. It made Hakyeon smile a little to himself. 

“Now,” Kyungsoo said, hands smoothing down the material of his pant legs like he was wearing a tailored armani suit instead of the worn cotton sweats he actually had on. In combination with his bare feet, it was a cute effect. “Give me a status update, please. Did you clear the area as I asked?”

“Not exactly,” Hakyeon said. “The hunters weren’t hard to track down, they’re neither VCF nor aligned with any underground party, as far as I can see. But there’s a— a bit of a problem.” He looked away from Kyungsoo, up at Jongin’s openly curious face.

“He can hear whatever you have to say,” Kyungsoo said dismissively, motioning to get Hakyeon’s attention back on him. Jongin glanced down at Kyungsoo, expression distinctly affectionate— and maybe a little pleased. “Go on.”

Hakyeon wasn’t exactly happy about that. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the human, necessarily. He just knew that if he heard this conversation— well. Hakyeon didn’t know if Kyungsoo was planning on keeping him. He couldn’t let him go. Not now. Not if he was letting him sit in on conversations like this. But it was Kyungsoo’s gamble, letting his feeder listen in. 

In the end Hakyeon gave a one shouldered shrug and reached into his front shirt pocket, pulling out the small glass vial, still full of blood. He’d stuck it in the fridge for the day, because spelled or not, it was still blood. Weirdly, it had come out still warm to the touch, most likely from the energy. He leaned forward, setting it on the dainty coffee table between them. 

Kyungsoo frowned, picking the vial up off the table to look at it more closely. “Blood?” he said, thumbing at the crumbling wax around the lip of the vial. 

Hakyeon nodded. “I had the hunters cornered— I was going to kill one, as a warning, like you said.” He swallowed nervously, glancing again at Jongin. “But the other— he pulled a vial like that out of his pocket, and threw it on the ground. When it shattered it went off like a bomb, and I don’t know how, but— what came out of it was pure sunlight.”

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and then fell again, lowering into a thoughtful scowl. The play of emotions might have been comical, if not for the situation. “That’s— not possible,” Kyungsoo said, eyebrows lowering so far Hakyeon rather thought they were going to touch his eyelashes. 

Kyungsoo looked at Wonshik and Sanghyuk, but before he could ask them anything, Hakyeon said, “They weren’t there, and they don’t believe me either. But I know what I saw.”

“It’s not that we don’t believe you, Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk said softly. “It’s just—”

“We trust your judgements,” Wonshik interrupted, “but— this is a vial of blood, and we just don’t understand.”

“It almost killed me,” Hakyeon said, imploring Kyungsoo to believe him and hating how young he sounded. “I don’t understand it either, but it turned me into a lump of charcoal. I haven’t been that frightened in centuries.” 

Kyungsoo was still frowning intently, and he tapped at the stopper in the vial. “May I?” he asked, and Hakyeon made a motion as if to say _of course_. Kyungsoo removed it carefully, then brought the vial to his face so he could sniff lightly at it. After a few moments, his nose wrinkled and he said, “It’s blood. It’s bad blood. Smells like death.” 

“It is the blood of a sorcerer,” Sanghyuk said, and Kyungsoo’s eyebrows were back to being surprised. “He isn’t for hire— he seems to be rogue and lives with the hunters.”

“He’s dying,” Wonshik added, and Hakyeon wasn’t sure if he saw Sanghyuk flinch, just a little. “We’re unsure of the cause. And we’re unsure if the blood smells odd because his blood is— off, or if it is from the spell.”

Kyungsoo put the stopper back into the top of the vial after one last sniff. “How did you get this? I can’t imagine he just handed it over.”

“Not exactly,” Hakyeon said. He recounted the events of the previous night, and Kyungsoo listened intently to every word. His children, for the most part, remained silent, letting Hakyeon speak. 

“I’m not sure leaving him alive was wise,” Kyungsoo said once Hakyeon was finished, turning the vial over and over in his hands. “He sounds potent, and it may be difficult to catch him vulnerable again. But then, you made a promise. And with sorcerers, it is a good thing to keep them.”

“It wasn’t just because of the promise, more than that— I want to know how he is doing it, how he is making this spell,” Hakyeon said, nodding to the vial. “Dead men can’t talk. Neither can uncooperative men. So I felt it best we left once we had the vial.”

Kyungsoo hummed. “You’re very curious about it.”

“Aren’t you?” Hakyeon asked, and Kyungsoo sighed, looking away. Hakyeon felt his temper rising. “Why does _no one_ believe me?”

“I lived through the Trials, Hakyeon,” Kyungsoo reminded him softly, and the tone of his voice immediately quelled Hakyeon’s anger under a wave of mild fear. “I saw humans tearing sacrifices apart with their fingernails in attempts at finding ways to make sunlight containable. Nothing ever took.” 

Hakyeon sat with his spine stiff, hands clenched on his thighs, lips pressed together so hard his jaw was starting to ache. His eyes spoke for him, even if the effort of not screaming was making his shoulders shake. When he could be sure he could control his volume, he said, “I really think we should be looking into this.”

Kyungsoo sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hakyeon—”

He cut off because Jongin had leaned forward, plucking the vial from Kyungsoo’s hand. “Why don’t we set it off?” Jongin asked, tone jarringly young. He held up the vial to eye level, squinting at it. “If there’s nothing else to be learned from it just— existing. Setting it off could, at least, put to rest what it _does_.”

Hakyeon instinctively recoiled, the memory of his flesh burning off still too fresh. “I don’t—”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo said, and Hakyeon’s mouth snapped shut. He looked at his maker with wide eyes. “Yes, let’s do that. Not here though.” Kyungsoo stood, already sweeping out of the room. “Come.”

Jongin followed, bouncy, and Sanghyuk went next, almost seeming excited in his own way. Wonshik, as well, looked curious as they were led through the house and out the sliding glass back door. The back yard was spacious, and there was a pool with deck chairs around it, a decorative fountain at one end. Concrete. Hakyeon didn’t leave the house, and he murmured softly for Sanghyuk and Wonshik to not step off the porch. 

Kyungsoo and Jongin, on the other hand, went to the edge of the pool, a decent distance away. Even supposing the vial had lost some potency, this wasn’t—

“Stand away from each other,” Hakyeon called, uneasiness heavy in his voice. “And Jongin should close his eyes when he throws it down.”

“Don’t worry, Hakyeon; if it didn’t kill you it definitely won’t kill me,” Kyungsoo called back. He looked slightly amused, but he listened, stepping three paces away from Jongin. 

It was still too close, but Hakyeon wasn’t going to say anything— he couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe they were doing this—

Kyungsoo nodded sharply, and Jongin raised his arm up. Hakyeon moved as he brought it down, away from the glass door, the wide windows, so that when the light came, blinding and golden, it didn’t hit him directly. The flash of it still hurt his eyes, but he didn't burn.

Which couldn’t be said of the others, judging by the screaming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am v surprised i managed to actually finish this in a timely manner all things considered. bUT I DOUBT THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE DONE SO FAST. I AM SORRY.

Hakyeon sat lounging on the good chair in the small parlour, staring up at his maker as he stomped back into the room, face and hands damp from being freshly washed. His arms were still char-stained, black and smeared, and his clothes looked similarly smokey. He’d healed faster than Hakyeon had done, because he was older, or the spell had lost some of its potency with time, or both; Hakyeon couldn’t say.

Kyungsoo came to loom over Hakyeon, sitting in his seat, and Hakyeon simply raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn’t going to say _I told you so_ , but he didn't exactly need to. 

Standing near the wall were Wonshik and Sanghyuk, lined up beside one another like children who had been caught misbehaving. They hadn’t washed, and they were both still somewhat red under the black soot smears. Before Kyungsoo had come into the room, Wonshik had kept muttering about his vintage Burberry jacket being ruined, until Sanghyuk had elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Where is Jongin?” Hakyeon asked, maybe a bit too idly, because Kyungsoo’s nostrils flared. 

“Icing his face— he likes to lay in the sun but even that was a bit much for him,” Kyungsoo said tersely. He made to sit on the couch, then apparently thought better of staining the whole piece. “You can gloat. I give you permission. Just once.”

“I don’t relish seeing you screaming in pain,” Hakyeon said honestly. It wasn’t a sight or sound he wanted to ever be repeated. He paused. “But I did tell you so.”

Kyungsoo exhaled through his nose aggressively. “Yes, you did, and you were right,” he said. “It’s sunlight— I haven’t seen it in hundreds of years but I know it still.” His hands flexed at his sides, then balled into fists. “I want to know how he is doing it— to either bury the information or utilize it, I’m not sure, yet.”

“As do I,” Hakyeon said. “But he is not for hire, that much is clear. He is— not on our side. I am unsure the best way to proceed. I’d say we could bring in another sorcerer—”

“But there are none we can trust, and I do _not_ want the secrets of this leaking,” Kyungsoo finished for him, and Hakyeon nodded. Kyungsoo looked down at the intricate rug, brow furrowed in thought. “I fear intimidation tactics or threats could lead to us being harmed, if this sorcerer felt cornered enough. The severity of the damage to us could be very grave, if this is what a small vial of blood can do. Is the information worth it, is the question, or would we be better off organizing some kind of attack and killing the lot of them—” Kyungsoo cut off, looking around at their stillness. “You all just reacted like I just shoved silver stakes up your asses. What is it?”

Hakyeon paused, not really able to fully articulate the thoughts in him, and Wonshik spoke in his stead. “Hakyeon is eyeing one of the hunters as a potential addition to the nest,” he said simply, and Hakyeon looked at him sharply. He hadn’t said anything about wanting to turn the hunter— simply expressed interest of the carnal kind. But Wonshik knew him well.

Hakyeon rarely kept lovers without the offer of turning them eventually. Many said no. But a few — Hakyeon’s eyes flickered from Wonshik to Sanghyuk and back — had said yes. 

“Oh?” Kyungsoo said, frown lifting as he raised his eyebrows at Hakyeon. “Why?”

Hakyeon fought not to squirm. “Because I like my children to be brave, loyal, and stupid, apparently.”

Wonshik snorted. Sanghyuk rolled his eyes. Hakyeon ignored them.

Kyungsoo looked musing. “I knew you’d eventually find yet another— you do like collecting,” he said softly, more to himself than anything. “I— I would not want to take this from you, but our safety must take precedence.” Hakyeon swallowed, knowing it was true. From off to the side, Sanghyuk shifted, chin raising, and Kyungsoo glanced at him. “Sanghyuk?”

“The hunters aren’t a threat, but as you said, the sorcerer is— strong. And we do not know the extent of his abilities,” Sanghyuk said slowly, like he was measuring out the words. “I think attacking them, while we would possibly be successful, would also cause a ruckus. And with this place not even open yet, it could attract government attention we don’t need.” 

Sanghyuk’s eyes flickered over Hakyeon before going back to Kyungsoo, and Hakyeon made himself relax infinitesimally. Of course Sanghyuk would be on his side for this, but was it the smart side. Hakyeon knew better than to be driven by passion. And this wasn’t even that yet, it was simple— interest. He _wanted_. He wanted to tame the hunter, wanted that fire to be his.

“Considering your interests,” Sanghyuk continued in that same calm, even tone, “as well as Hakyeon’s, perhaps it would be better for us to approach this more softly.”

“Softly,” Kyungsoo echoed. He didn’t seem adverse to the proposal, but of course while their safety would be of great priority, Kyungsoo also wouldn’t want to throw this place away before he could get at least _some_ kind of revenue from it. “How do you suppose we do that?”

Sanghyuk looked up from under his lashes and smiled softly. 

——

For all that Taekwoon knew spending their nights in the basement was their best option, it didn’t change the fact that the reality of it was unpleasant. 

Hongbin had woken them up soon enough after the sun had set that they’d been able to grab some supplies— namely the air mattress and some food. But the room felt small with the three of them in it, the mattress taking up a large portion of the floor. Somehow knowing they were sealed in until dawn made it worse.

Jaehwan sat at his desk, humming very softly under his breath as he worked on some kind of decoction. Of course, he was used to being stuck down here. Hongbin, after much antsy fidgeting, had gave in and curled up on the air mattress, where he was now dozing— at least, he looked to have finally nodded off. Taekwoon, in turn, was sitting up in Jaehwan’s bed, reading a well worn paperback. His eyes kept skimming over the same page over and over, unable to focus enough to take in the words. The night was well past midway through, and all had been quiet so far. It was naive to hope it was over, but still Taekwoon did. 

Taekwoon looked up from his book to stare at Jaehwan’s side profile as he worked. His face was very serious in concentration, and Taekwoon tried to make himself ease. They truly were safe down here.

“What are you making?” Taekwoon whispered softly so as not to disturb Hongbin.

Jaehwan sat up, glancing at him. “More salve,” he murmured. “Hongbin’s used up most of the old batch.” His voice was tired, eyelids seeming heavy.

“You should be resting,” Taekwoon said. “Last night was—”

“I’m fine, Taekwoon,” Jaehwan interrupted, and the sharpness of his tone made Hongbin snuffle in his sleep. Both Taekwoon and Jaehwan smiled a little, instinctive, when Hongbin snuggled back down into the pillow. Jaehwan whispered, “He’s best like this. Sleeping.”

“You are too,” Taekwoon said, and Jaehwan flipped him off. Taekwoon was a fool, but it warmed him some. He stood, shuffling around the air mattress carefully so he could stand at Jaehwan’s side. Jaehwan looked up at him, expectant, curious, and Taekwoon ran his fingertip along the shell of Jaehwan’s ear, just to feel the spark. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am,” Jaehwan said, and Taekwoon knew it was a lie. But he wasn’t in the mood to argue, and if Jaehwan was feeling well enough to fake it— then it was good enough. “Maybe _you_ should sleep.”

Taekwoon snorted. “I slept most of the day.”

Jaehwan hummed, smiling softly, lazy. “I know, you nearly suffocated me.”

Taekwoon traced his fingertip from Jaehwan’s ear along to his jawline, and Jaehwan simply stared up at him, sleepy and soft. “Sorry,” he said quietly. 

“No, you’re not,” Jaehwan said, finally turning away, and Taekwoon let his hand drop. “Taekwoon, I—”

He cut off, face snapping up to look at the ceiling, and Taekwoon could feel it too, the disturbance of the wards. It was— muffled, down here, locked in a magical safebox as they were. But it was still unmistakeable. 

Hongbin made a snuffling noise, sitting up, his hair rumpled. “They’re back,” he rasped, eyes also going to the ceiling. 

“I can’t tell how many of them there are,” Jaehwan said. “I can’t tell _where_ they are.”

“Close enough,” Taekwoon said. They waited, barely breathing, for a sound, or for the wards to flare up more strongly, but it didn’t come. 

“Maybe,” Jaehwan said slowly, “I should go up and see if I can—”

“No,” Taekwoon said immediately. “I’ll go.”

Jaehwan scowled, voice rising, “Taekwoon, I swear on Merlin’s—”

“Don’t,” Taekwoon said simply. He reached out, grabbing the small vial of blood Jaehwan had let from himself a few hours prior. “You can’t use this, not without risking it setting all of you off. But I can.”

“And me?” Hongbin asked, already standing. “What will be your excuse for making me stay down here?”

Taekwoon walked by, shoving Hongbin hard and making him fall back onto the mattress. “Because I am telling you to. I do not want a situation like we were in last night, with you held hostage and staying our hands.”

Hongbin scowled furiously up at him, but neither he nor Jaehwan made any move to follow him up the stairs when he began to climb them. He thanked the heavens for small fucking mercies.

Once Taekwoon stepped tentatively into the kitchen, the bubble of spellwork of the basement no longer cocooning him, he could feel the vampire’s energy reacting to the house wards more strongly. But he wasn’t strong enough, magically, to be able to tell if there was one, or three, or ten of them lurking in the dark. 

None of the lights inside the house were on, but they’d flicked on the back porch light before going down to the basement. It was weak and yellow as it filtered through the windows, casting soft shadows behind Taekwoon as he padded slowly to the window over the sink. The feeling sitting cold in his gut, making his heart flutter like a trapped bird, reminded him of his childhood, laying in bed in the dark, fearful of the monsters under the bed, peeking out from under the blankets and expecting to see eyes staring back. There never were any, just that sweet rush of relief when it was only darkness, nothing more. But he knew, now, that when he looked out, the monster would be there.

Taekwoon took a deep breath, steadying himself, and peered around, out the window, not sure what to expect— he caught the movement immediately and jerked back, away from the window and out of sight. His heart felt like it was trying to escape him, fear noxious in his throat. Then what he’d seen caught up with him, and after another deep breath, he looked out again.

Their yard had a good deal of concrete, what grass there was overgrown and strewn with leaves from the large tree at the corner of their property. The vampire was there, sitting in the old, cracking tire swing left from the previous family. They’d never bothered taking it down, and by now it was sun damaged, the rope that held it frayed. As Taekwoon watched, the vampire idly twirled, the flickering shadows that danced behind it making him shiver. It hadn’t seemed to notice him standing in the window, watching. 

Taekwoon pulled back, pressing his back to the wall and forcing himself to breathe evenly, closing his eyes as he tried to get a handle on himself. It was always bad, every time; he didn’t think he'd ever get used to it, the way everything in him always flinched away, the fear running under his skin like a current. Vampires just moved too smoothly, their humanoid shape unsettling, monsters wearing human skin. Off just enough to be _wrong_.

He wondered if he should go back to the basement— the vampire didn’t seem to be doing anything. Perhaps it was waiting them out. Or waiting for reinforcements. It was odd for it to be in someplace so visible. Long range weapons were a thing— they rarely worked with vampires, the damned things moved too fast, but they _existed_. 

Again, Taekwoon leaned over, peeking out of the window, watching the vampire swinging gently back and forth. It was barefoot, he noted dimly, not sure if it was significant on not. Its toes kept brushing the overgrown grass.

Suddenly its head snapped around, staring right at Taekwoon through the window, and Taekwoon felt the glamour slam into him so hard he gasped sharply and dropped to the ground to escape the weight of that gaze. The fucking thing was potent, if nothing else. An Elimia if Taekwoon had ever seen one. 

A soft noise, from the pantry, and Taekwoon raised his head to see Hongbin poking his head up out of the hidden door. “What is it?” Hongbin whispered.

“It’s just outside, not doing anything,” Taekwoon gasped, still feeling the pull. _Come to me_ , it said. “Give me— I left my earring with Jaehwan—”

Hongbin disappeared back into the basement and then popped back up a few moments later. He seemed to note that keeping out of view of the windows was a wise decision, and he crouched, coming over to drop the tiny silver cross into Taekwoon’s palm. 

“I can feel it,” Hongbin murmured, a little breathy, and Taekwoon shoved at him, pushing him back to the basement. 

“Get back underground,” he said, putting the earring in his ear and feeling it warm immediately. The glamour pulled back some, leaving some room for Taekwoon to think. “Hongbin. Go.”

Hongbin blinked at him, then up at the window, but when Taekwoon pushed at him again, he went, though he shuffled, slow. “Be careful,” Hongbin muttered, and the last thing he saw before Hongbin disappeared back down into the basement was him shaking his head, like he was trying to clear the fog away from his mind that way. 

Taekwoon was shaking so hard, lips feeling numb. When he glanced up at the window, he was half afraid he would see the vampire there, looking, watching, but he didn’t. He stood, legs weak, and went to the back door, undoing the lock carefully, slowly. He wanted to make sure he was in control of himself. The charm would help, but this was going to be difficult even with it. 

The vial of blood sat warm in his jacket pocket, and Taekwoon touched it carefully to reassure himself, before he opened the door. 

The vampire was still sitting in the tire swing, staring, and Taekwoon’s instincts fought with the pull of the glamour. Run, yield, run, yield. He was surprised how potently he wanted to go to it, let it take his mind under. It was trying very hard. Taekwoon could see the slight frown between its brows even from here. It wanted—

It wanted him to invite it in.

“That won’t work,” Taekwoon called, voice echoing in the night. “Fuck off.”

The vampire— its shoulders had been tensed, and Taekwoon could see it relax, a bit, the frown smoothing out, and just like that, the glamour dissipated. It was still there, a gentle whisper, sweet and tempting, but he was able to ignore it without feeling like his brain was dissolving. So at least there was that.

“I figured you would have charms against glamouring,” the vampire called back, swaying its legs slightly to begin swinging gently again. Hakyeon, Taekwoon remembered. That was its name. “Your little sorcerer is very talented indeed.”

Taekwoon stiffened at the mention of Jaehwan, and it spurred him on a little. He squared himself, stepping out of the house and closing the door behind himself even though every bone in his body opposed it. He was shaken down to his marrow but they couldn’t look weak. 

It might have been his imagination, but he thought he saw a slight spark in the vampire’s eyes. Taekwoon touched one of the wooden pillars of the porch, steady, comforting. “What do you want?” he asked it.

The vampire— Hakyeon— put its feet down, stilling itself. Taekwoon almost expected it to come lunging at him, or one of its children to grab him from the dark, but neither happened. It stayed where it was, and the night remained quiet. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” it said. 

Taekwoon frowned. “You tried to murder my best friend,” he snapped. “That is how we got off. What do you _want_?”

The corners of Hakyeon’s mouth tightened slightly. “I would like to speak to him. To the little sorcerer.”

Taekwoon stepped down off the porch, onto the concrete. It was surprisingly easy, and he wondered if the adrenaline was kicking in, or if it was because he was complying with the glamour. “No.”

Hakyeon’s head tilted a little, and it seemed to stare right through Taekwoon. “Are you lovers?” it asked, tone light.

The image of Jaehwan under him, arching, pretty lips parted, flashed through Taekwoon’s mind. “ _No_ ,” Taekwoon said, maybe a little too harshly. 

But Hakyeon smiled, teeth all blunt. “That’s good.”

Taekwoon didn’t know what that meant, but his cheeks were uncomfortably warm, and he felt small. He could remember, remember the feeling of Jaehwan whimpering into his mouth—

 _No_.

When it became clear Taekwoon wasn’t going to reply, the vampire said, “I’m not going to hurt him, we’ve come to the decision that it is better, for both sides, if perhaps we come to an understanding.”

Taekwoon eyed Hakyeon suspiciously. “An understanding.”

“A truce,” Hakyeon amended evenly.

Taekwoon laughed, hollow. “A truce? I give you Jaehwan and you fuck off? No, you can’t have him,” he said, and Hakyeon shifted, as if he would stand, and Taekwoon’s hand was on the hilt of his dagger before he could think twice about it. Hakyeon stilled, frowning.

“Don’t,” it snapped, irritated. The command in that simple word raked over Taekwoon, and it took everything he had to not let the dagger go immediately, but he was able to keep his hand on the hilt. “I would rather not hurt you any more than I already have, but if you insist on attempting to stab me, I will have to toss you around until you desist. Again. Are we going to keep going round and round with that, or do you think you can accept that you, at least, cannot kill me?”

Taekwoon felt his cheeks pinkening again, and, very slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand from the hilt of his dagger. It was right; his best weapon was tucked into his pocket. 

“Then I will settle for you, and your family, to simply leave,” Taekwoon said. He wished— oh, he wished he could set the sunlight bomb off now, end this creature, with its dark almond eyes and slim frame. But he knew they would kill him for it. Who knew how many children it had, how many would come for them. 

Hakyeon stared at him levelly, and Taekwoon fought down the urge to squirm under that gaze. Silence was usually his game, but he could play it this way too. As Taekwoon watched, Hakyeon brought its feet up so it could climb, quickly, smoothly so it was sitting atop the tire swing, instead of in the middle of it, hands still holding the rope. It made it a good deal taller than Taekwoon, who now had to look up at it. 

“Surely,” Hakyeon finally whispered, giving itself a strange little shake like it was trying to loosen out its joints, “you have figured out that I am an Elimia. You have no chance against me, but more than that— I’m not the sort of vampire you should be wasting such resources fighting. I haven’t killed a human in a great many years, I use feeders to sustain myself.”

Taekwoon didn’t know why it expected this to move him. “So, what?” he asked, disdain heavy in his voice. The longer he stood here, the less afraid he was. It wasn’t saying much, he was still terrified, but his body seemed to have plateaued out. “Hongbin was going to be your one exception? Your guilty pleasure for being so good for so long?”

“No,” Hakyeon said. It stared down at Taekwoon, unwavering and level, almost calculating. “But recently it was suggested to me that perhaps discouraging the local hunters would be wise.”

Taekwoon laughed again, a short shock of sound. “Are you trying to convince me you wouldn’t have killed him?”

“Oh, not at all,” Hakyeon said lightly, tone all too casual. “It was my intention. Killing half of a hunter duo is sure to cripple the unit, and discourage any more humans who might want to try their hand at being vigilantes.” 

It was Taekwoon’s turn to stare then, and he felt the fear in him receding like a tide under the wave of anger surging up in him. His fingers twitched with the desire to grab his dagger. 

Hakyeon saw the movement, its gaze dipping for a second before going back up to Taekwoon’s eyes. “You hate me,” it whispered, still staring into him, and Taekwoon knew he should look away. “I can see it. You’re filled with it. But you would have killed me, had you gotten the chance, even if I had never laid hands on your friend. So is it really fair to blame me for striking first?”

“Yes,” Taekwoon said immediately. “The world would be better off without your kind.”

“Humans would be better off, perhaps,” Hakyeon said, blinking slowly down at him. “Maybe I should have gone about it another way,” it whispered, almost to itself. “In past experiences, talking, negotiating, with hunters has always been fruitless, though I should know better than to think of you all as a hive mind. Humans are not all the same.”

That gave Taekwoon a little bit of pause. “Aren’t we?” he asked, knowing most vampires thought humans were dumb and slow, and of very, very little worth. There was always another human, billions of them, which made them all very disposable. 

“No,” Hakyeon said, eyeing Taekwoon up and down in a way that made Taekwoon’s skin crawl. “No, you’re not the same at all. I told you I am an Elimia, there are mentalities that come with that. And I also told you we got off on the wrong foot.”

Taekwoon’s nose wrinkled, disbelief welling up. “Are you trying to convince me you’re a _good_ vampire?” he asked, unable to keep the sarcastic laughter out of his voice. “You nearly murdered my best friend. And then your child nearly murdered him again. For his blood, for food, because we’re nothing to vampires.” His voice dropped to a whisper in intensity. “I’m never going to believe you are anything but a monster.”

Hakyeon’s lips parted, eyes going a bit glazed as it looked down at Taekwoon silently. Taekwoon didn’t know what it was thinking, didn’t like the way he could see the tips of fangs between those parted lips. 

“You aren’t the brightest,” Hakyeon whispered finally, slowly. “But you are so brave. So brave and so full of fire. And loyalty, love. You love your friends. Clearly harming one of them was my mistake.”

That— Taekwoon truly didn’t understand, didn’t get why Hakyeon would care. Unless— unless—

Hakyeon moved, and Taekwoon tensed as he watched the creature slide smoothly off the tire swing, one hand still holding the rope idly even after its feet were back on the ground.

“We are getting off topic, I think,” Hakyeon said, voice turning brusque, that odd glazed look in its eyes gone. “Clearly, you do not trust me, but I have a great deal of time on my hands to show that perhaps an alliance with us is a good decision to make.”

Taekwoon reeled back. “An _alliance_?” he echoed, and realized he was right. They wanted Jaehwan, not to kill him, but to put him on a leash. Of course. Something in him hardened at the thought. They’d run him into the ground, killing him anyway.

The vampire was talking again, and Taekwoon fought to listen to it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. “I have lived here a long time,” it said, “perhaps longer than you have. Why do you think the vampire population here has always been so low? I can be a bit— territorial. Not one of my prettier traits. But soon there will be a moderate spike in the number of vampires here. You will not be able to stop it— no offense meant, kitten, but you are not very good at hunting.”

Taekwoon was still reeling, brain scrambling to get ahead of this. He touched his pocket, where the vial sat, like it would ground him. “So—”

“ _So_ ,” Hakyeon cut him off. “I want to know how your sorcerer friend has managed to bottle sunlight. In the vampiric sphere, holding sunlight would be pure power, and the idea is a nice one. Also, I would rather that power not be used against me again. In return, I suppose, for the divulgence of the secret, it is within _my_ power to make it so that even with the influx of vampire residents here, the body count does not rise accordingly with it.” With that little speech delivered, it settled back a bit, a slight smirk curving one corner of its mouth up, like it was already convinced it had won.

Taekwoon squinted at it, upper lip curling. “If you’ve lived here a long time, then you’ll do that anyway,” he spat, and Hakyeon blinked. “If the body count spikes the VCF will come down hard here, which would put you in danger. 

A pause, then Hakyeon grinned, and Taekwoon fought down a shiver. “Perhaps you are not as stupid as I thought,” Hakyeon said, still smiling. His eyes flickered down, to where Taekwoon’s hand was resting over the blood in his pocket. “You’ve got another of those blasted vials in your pocket, don’t you?”

Taekwoon slipped his hand into his pocket, feeling the glass against his fingertips, and Hakyeon tensed. It made the fear surge up again, but it was fear he could see mirrored, slightly, in Hakyeon. “Yes.”

“Are you going to use it?”

“Are you going to make me?”

Hakyeon laughed, head tossing back a little, and now, now, there were fangs. “Not tonight, kitten.” it said, stepping forward, and Taekwoon braced himself, fingers tightening on the vial. But Hakyeon swerved a little, around Taekwoon, beginning to circle him, slow. “I _want_ that spell, kitten.”

Taekwoon fought not to turn with the creature, fought his body’s instinctive response to not let it out of his sight. Hakyeon’s footsteps made no sound as the creature passed behind him. “I want you dead,” Taekwoon said, shaking with tension as he made himself stare straight ahead, “but we can’t all get what we want.”

Then Hakyeon was back in his sight, coming around the front of him again, and it ducked its head and smiled. Taekwoon didn’t know what was so funny. “No,” it murmured, still smiling down at the grass, “I suppose we can’t.”

Taekwoon was so confused, wondering what mind games were being played here. “Why haven’t you just killed me?”

An expression passed over Hakyeon’s face, and Taekwoon couldn’t place it. “Why indeed,” it murmured, continuing to circle Taekwoon until it was once again out of his sight.

“You just want the spell,” Taekwoon whispered, “and you’re smart enough to know you won’t get it if you hurt me.”

Hakyeon made a small noise of acknowledgement from behind him. “I do imagine it would make your friend somewhat uncooperative.”

“And then once you have it?” Taekwoon asked, and the silence that answered him was enough. “You’ll kill us then.”

“No,” Hakyeon said, once again passing in front of Taekwoon. It moved so leisurely, but Taekwoon saw the way its eyes dipped to glance at Taekwoon’s hand, still in his pocket. 

“And I’m supposed to just take your word for it?” Taekwoon asked, and Hakyeon’s gaze flicked back up to his face. He had no real intention of handing the information over, but it didn’t hurt, to try and find this creature’s motives. Though he could guess well enough, he just wanted the damned thing to _say it_.

“Truthfully, my maker thought killing all of you would be the wisest choice, regardless of whether we were able to retrieve the spell— the spell is valuable, yes, but it and you all are also a lethal danger to us,” Hakyeon said, moving to the side once more, circling endlessly. Taekwoon was starting to feel dizzy. “It was at my— well, in regards to my wishes, that we decided an alliance, a truce, a symbiotic relationship between us, was the route we would take instead.”

It kept saying _alliance_ , but Taekwoon knew better. There could be no alliances with a vampire pack that didn’t involve them all on leashes one way or another.

"You don't want an alliance," Taekwoon said flatly. "You want to own Jaehwan, and his powers."

“It is possible, you know, that if you ally yourselves with us, we could keep him from dying,” Hakyeon said from behind him, and Taekwoon felt the words like a whip across his back. They— no— “But in truth, no, I do not want to own him. There are— other things I want, besides his magic, the spell.” 

Taekwoon‘s stomach dropped a little. His mind went to Hongbin, the sweetness in his blood, and everything in him rebelled at the thought of handing him over to this creature. He turned, finally, snarling, “You can’t have Hongbin either—”

Taekwoon froze upon turning, because Hakyeon was looking at him intently from under his lashes, in a way Taekwoon recognized, even though it was alien, seeing it on this creature. He stumbled back, away, feeling like ice water had been dumped over him. “No,” he said hoarsely, feeling sick and faint all at once. “No—”

“Hush, kitten, I won’t touch you if you’re unwilling,” Hakyeon said softly, and Taekwoon felt like he might actually pass out. 

“You— you want to turn me into a glazed feeder— glamoured of all soul and addicted to being bitten,” Taekwoon whispered, horrified and angry at the images running through his mind, this creature’s body against his, mouth on his skin. Of course it would want to bring him down, a hunter that had defied it, hurt it, it would want to claw him into darkness. Killing him would be too simple. Ruining him first would be much sweeter.

“No,” Hakyeon murmured, voice so soft, and there was glamour in the word. It wasn’t the same sort of pull as before, more of a gentle wash over him, calm. He shut it out as best he could anyway. “It is your spirit I enjoy. You are reckless and foolish, but brave and loyal, and these are valuable traits. It would be senseless, to destroy something so lovely.” He paused, then whispered, barely audible, “But yes, I do want you.”

Where Taekwoon had gone cold before, he now felt heat flushing, tingling over his chest, neck, cheeks. “Stop,” he said, voice jarringly loud in the silence of the night. He nearly startled himself with it, but it made Hakyeon’s mouth snap shut, eyes widening a little, which was the goal. “I don’t— stop.”

Hakyeon was still staring at him in that level, focused way, and it was making Taekwoon want to crawl out of his own skin. “Would you rather I lied to you?” Hakyeon asked. “You’ve nothing to fear— I will neither try to force nor convince you, simply felt you should be made aware of my— intentions. All of them.”

Taekwoon found his own upper lip curling in an instinctual snarl. “The glamour is just for nothing, then?” he growled. He didn’t believe for a minute this creature wouldn’t glamour him out of his senses if it got half the chance. He _hated_ Hakyeon, hated the thought of this creature wanting him. He stepped back, towards the house, because he wanted to be safe, away. Hakyeon watched him silently, not moving to stop him, face an unreadable mask. “You’re a liar, you’re _death_. Vampires rot anything they touch. You can’t fucking have me, or Jaehwan, or Hongbin— you can’t have anything from us.”

Taekwoon took several more steps back, heart fluttering in his throat. Hakyeon watched him moving intently, calculating. “That is alright,” Hakyeon whispered. “I told you, I won’t force you. Not on the matter of my desire for you, anyway.” He stepped forward, following Taekwoon as he moved back to the porch, no faster nor slower than Taekwoon. When Taekwoon was on the porch, wood creaking beneath him, Hakyeon was at the base of the stairs staring up at him. “But I will, I must, insist on being informed of the secrets of the sunlight spell, even if you will not accept my offer of an alliance.” 

Taekwoon finally jerked his hand out of his pocket, the vial between his fingers and warmed from his skin. “I will let you taste it again if you want it so badly,” Taekwoon hissed, and Hakyeon’s nose wrinkled in a snarl that made Taekwoon want to retch. “But this time I won’t make the mistake of not fucking staking you afterwards.”

From behind him, he heard the door creak open, and he wished — he fucking _wished_ — Hongbin and Jaehwan would listen to him when he gave them an order. He could sense, somehow, that the person poking their head out was Jaehwan. Perhaps it was the way Hakyeon’s face smoothed out, even as his hands curled into fists at his side.

“Taekwoon?” Jaehwan said, voice small. “He’s alone, tonight.”

That surprised Taekwoon, a bit. He had sort of just assumed Hakyeon would have brought at least one of his children along as backup, even if he hadn’t been able to see them around. 

At the divulgence of that information Hakyeon took several steps back. “I do not want to fight with you lot,” he said, scowling deeply. “If you had any sort of strategic reasoning you wouldn’t want to fight with my nest either.”

Taekwoon turned the vial over in his fingertips, contemplating. Hakyeon‘s eyes dropped to follow the movement, and the entire line of his body— it tensed, but it looked so strange, not human nor animal. Preparing to run.

“You offered me a deal earlier, Hakyeon,” Taekwoon whispered, and softly, Jaehwan touched Taekwoon’s back, steadying. Hakyeon looked away from the vial to glare at his face. “I offer another. You and your fucking nest mates won’t attack or threaten us, and I won’t set this off in your face again.”

Hakyeon’s fangs were fully run out now, face twisting. Even if he flickered away, the sunlight bomb going off could definitely still catch him— light was fast. He seemed to realize this as well. “A truce? Fine,” Hakyeon whispered, the words nearly dripping poison. “These aren't the terms I would have chosen, but I will accept that contract. Nonviolence is quieter, and I have a very long time to wait you out. And I think you’ll find I am both patient and persistent.”

Taekwoon stepped back, bumping into Jaehwan in the doorway as he did so. He forced Jaehwan further back into the house as he let himself back into the safety of the wards, the warmth of them washing over him.

“Here,” he said, and carefully tossed the vial out to Hakyeon, slow enough that there was no way the vampire wouldn’t catch it. “Maybe you’ll have better luck puzzling that one out.”

Taekwoon grabbed the edge of the door, shutting it quickly, but not before he saw Hakyeon look at him like— well, like he wanted to sink teeth into his throat. 

_Not tonight_ , Taekwoon thought, locking the deadbolt like it would make a difference. Jaehwan leaned against his side, trembling slightly, and Taekwoon carefully wrapped his arm around his shoulders. _Not ever_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. I’m sorry. I think eventually, they will get longer, it is just things are happening in slower increments right now~

Hakyeon didn’t come back until the night was nearing its end. Sanghyuk felt him step through the door, the spells cloaking their home sighing in relief at his return. He didn’t bother going to greet him, knowing Hakyeon would seek him out, to tell him of anything that had transpired. Hakyeon could always be trusted to talk. And talk. 

Sure enough Hakyeon was home approximately three minutes before he pushed the door to Sanghyuk’s room open, not bothering to knock. Sanghyuk had nothing to hide from his maker anyway; he was simply sitting on his vast floor, surrounded by books and scrawled-in notebooks. The bookshelves that lined the walls of his room were still stuffed full, and Sanghyuk had, at some point in his long life, read every book he owned. But the myth of vampires all having photographic memories, able to catalogue information like computers, was just that: a myth. They were able to process more information, but they were still imperfect. Sanghyuk couldn’t remember half of what was in his books. So here he was, forced to comb back through them for anything useful. 

He looked up from the fragile tome in his lap so he could gauge Hakyeon’s expression as his maker came into the room. Hakyeon didn’t really have much of one, but Sanghyuk knew him well enough to be able to decipher he was pissy.

“The soft approach didn’t work then?” Sanghyuk asked as Hakyeon loomed over him. Wordlessly, Hakyeon held out his hand, in which sat another small vial of blood. Sanghyuk took it with a small noise of surprise. The glass was warm against his cold fingertips. “The sorcerer gave you another.”

“No, it was the— Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said haltingly. “It was Taekwoon.”

Sanghyuk gave a smile that was half a smirk. “Kitten.”

He’d hoped Hakyeon would laugh, or smack him, but instead he looked— almost sad. “Yes,” he said softly. “I didn’t get a chance to speak to the sorcerer— for all his power it is clear Taekwoon is the leader of the pack, not him. And Taekwoon is full of hatred for our kind. I’m not sure he is a rock that can be budged.” Hakyeon folded himself down so he was sitting beside Sanghyuk primly. 

“It went that badly?” Sanghyuk asked, turning the vial over in his hands. “I’ve never known you to back down from a challenge.” 

Hakyeon shook his head once, a little irate. “I’m not backing down,” he said, “but I don’t— I don’t think I can seduce him. I can try, but the animosity goes beyond simple fear and hatred. He is disgusted by me, I can see it in his eyes. I don’t want to force him. And threats won’t go far, he is a hunter, and doesn’t fear death quite the way a normal human would. And they do have their ace in the hole, so to speak.” Hakyeon looked at the vial. 

“Hm,” Sanghyuk said in agreement, also looking at the vial, then the books around them. “I’ve made very little headway, to be honest. It isn’t that there isn’t any information on sunlight spells, but rather too much. Humans have been trying to make a working one seemingly since vampires came into existence. But everything is a record of what has failed, because nothing has ever worked.”

Hakyeon nibbled on his bottom lip, an old habit. He was lucky he was a vampire and when he nipped chunks off himself, he would heal. When human, he’d probably had perpetually bloody lips. “I think the sorcerer might be— softer, more willing to listen, to make a deal. Taekwoon has too much disdain for our kind to want to take any sort of alliance, but I think the sorcerer would be more open. They usually are.”

The sorcerer. Perhaps. He had to have some degree of intelligence, to make this spell work. “We could offer to extend his life— his sickness seems to be a magical one,” Sanghyuk said neutrally, and Hakyeon slid a glance at him. “It might make him more cooperative.”

“I said such to Taekwoon, and he did not take kindly to it,” Hakyeon said. “But perhaps the sorcerer himself would be more willing to take such a deal. My worry is, would we be able to hold up that bargain? There is no guarantee we can help.”

Sanghyuk thought of the sorcerer, light as a doll in his arms, wrists as delicate as flower stems. The slight blueness of his veins showing through his pale skin. “Yes,” he murmured, “I suppose it may be too late for him.”

Hakyeon was staring at him, he could feel it. “What’s in your head, Sanghyuk?” he asked softly. Sanghyuk looked at him with feigned innocence. “You’ve never minded going in guns blazing before— so to speak. Why the sudden change in tactics? Why are you so adamant about us handling them softly? Not that I mind, per se, it suits my interests well— but it is somewhat unlike you.”

“Are you saying I can’t be subtle?” Sanghyuk said, grinning in mockery, and Hakyeon gently whapped him on the arm. 

“You know what I mean, you little shit,” Hakyeon said, scowling, and Sanghyuk grinned for real. “You’ve never been afraid to take risks.”

Sanghyuk gave a one shouldered shrug, looking away. “I’m not afraid now— it is simply that I feel it is pointless to raze them to the ground when the sorcerer is dying. It would be loud, and risky for us. Why bother when we can wait him out? If we can convince him to ally with us, then it will only mean good things for us, and if we can’t— he’ll be gone soon enough anyway.” 

Hakyeon was ominously quiet. He reached over, grabbing the heavy book from Sanghyuk’s lap so he could pull it into his own. After a few seconds of skimming over the yellowed pages he carefully closed it. Even so, wafts of dust rose up. “Sanghyuk,” he said softly, and Sanghyuk sighed heavily. He knew that tone. “What is it about the sorcerer that has caught your eye?”

“He hasn’t,” Sanghyuk said simply, and could feel Hakyeon’s judgemental gaze. “It’s— it isn’t like that.”

Hakyeon was there, then, pushing his face near Sanghyuk’s so he couldn’t avoid his eyes anymore. “Then what is it?”

“I—” Sanghyuk swallowed, thinking, trying to put into line thoughts that were barely even tangible, even to himself. Finally, he said, “Soon before you turned me, a bird got caught in the feeder in my garden. It was small— a finch maybe. I had to take it out myself, it was tired, and I just remember the feel of it, fluttering against my palms as I cupped it. The sound of his heart reminded me of it, that gentle, fragile feeling.” He looked into Hakyeon’s dark eyes. “I don’t know, Hakyeon. He just— I want to have him.”

Hakyeon looked surprised. “You—”

“Not the way you want the hunter,” Sanghyuk said, quick, and Hakyeon’s expression smoothed out. “I don’t even—” He laughed, short, sharp. “It isn’t like that. Both his wings are broken, he’s dying, but there’s so much strength there. I want to see him in his glory.”

“That might not end well for us, you know,” Hakyeon said softly, but there was a new weight to his gaze, a new assessment there. 

Sanghyuk sighed. The vial was cooling in his hands. “I know.” 

A long pause. “Softly,” Hakyeon murmured. “We’ll tread softly. For now. And for now, it will be me. I think they will trust us sooner, if it is just me. I’ll bring you in, and Wonshik, when the time comes. In the meanwhile, you can keep trying to piece through this, and we’ll use any information we find if we can. Fair?”

Sanghyuk closed his fingers around the vial. “Fair.”

——

“A truce?”

Hongbin’s question hung in the air, and Taekwoon rubbed his hands over his face. “Yes,” he said, muffled from behind his hands, “that is what it said. A truce. An alliance.” 

Hongbin was sitting on the edge of the air mattress, legs loosely crossed, so he had to look way up at Taekwoon, standing beside the staircase up to the main house. Jaehwan sat at his desk, sideways in the chair so he could rest one arm across the back of it.

“What was it offering for our end?” Jaehwan asked softly. 

Taekwoon sighed, hands falling to hold his own upper arms. “It— it was offering everything it could think that would tempt us. Helping to cull other vampires, safety, and—” His eyes flickered over Jaehwan. “It hinted at resources, I assume magical ones. That could maybe help Jaehwan.” 

“And in return all it wants is the spell, right?” Hongbin asked, the cogs in his mind turning. “That— could it maybe be a deal we should consider taking?”

Taekwoon looked at him incredulously. “No?” he said, as if it were obvious. “We can’t trust them.”

“Maybe not,” Jaehwan said softly, “but do we have anything to lose?”

Taekwoon opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Yes,” he finally said stiffly, “I don’t believe for a second they can save you. They want the spell, and if we tell them, then what? The results can’t be replicated, it was an _accident_. If they want to utilize it they will have to use you. Saving you— curing you— would mean destroying the spell. Do you honestly believe they’ll help you, if helping you destroys what they wanted from you in the first place?”

Jaehwan wasn’t looking at Taekwoon, was staring beyond him, brow furrowed in thought. Hongbin spoke up instead. 

“If we bind them to the terms, they wouldn’t have a choice,” Hongbin said, and Taekwoon scowled at him. “More than that— it is possible that we could arrange it in such a way that they help us before we divulge any information.”

“What do you think they can do?” Taekwoon asked sharply, voice rising. “They are death, they can only bring death. They can’t help Jaehwan.”

“Maybe they know sorcerers that could,” Hongbin shot back, getting to his feet so he was eye level with Taekwoon. “Jaehwan said it— what do we have to lose?”

“Jaehwan—” Taekwoon cut himself off, looking furious, lips pressing together. 

“Jaehwan doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Jaehwan said softly, in mild mockery of Taekwoon’s voice. “Right, Taek?”

Taekwoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, opened them again. “That isn’t what I was going to say.”

“But you were thinking it,” Jaehwan replied. His voice was even, carefully even, tightly even. “You’re always thinking it. But this is my gamble to bet on— not yours. I want to consider it.”

Taekwoon blinked at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Jaehwan always sort of had a feeling about him, like glass, crystalline and fragile, but sometimes, the steel in the middle showed through. This was one of those times. 

“You want to make a deal with the devil,” Taekwoon said, tone and expression damning. Hongbin felt his hands curl into fists. 

But Jaehwan wasn’t having it, not tonight. “I said I want to _consider_ it, Taekwoon, not necessarily take it,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “But if I take it, it is my choice to do so.” Taekwoon made an objecting noise, but Jaehwan was talking before he could interject. “I know you hate them, I do too, but are you really going to look me in the eyes and tell me you’d rather I was dead, than alive because of a vampire?”

The notion seemed to rob Taekwoon of breath, and his mouth snapped shut as he looked down, hands clenching at his sides. “I—” he whispered. “I don’t— no. But it is a last resort, one I don’t want to take. There are many measures I would prefer to take first.” 

“Like what?” Hongbin asked, gesturing to the empty space around them as if to convey their lack of options. Because, really, they were out of choices, and nearly out of time. 

“Like an actual deal with Lucifer,” Taekwoon said stoutly, stubborn as a damn mule.

Jaehwan sighed, running a hand through his hair, making it feather gently over his forehead after his hand dropped. “Taekwoon.”

Taekwoon sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t _know_ , okay?” he burst out. “I just know we can’t let them close enough to help. You aren’t the only one at stake like you seem to think you are. They— it wants me.”

There was a pause. “What?” Hongbin finally asked, once he’d found his voice.

“It wants you?” Jaehwan said. “For—”

“Sex,” Taekwoon finished. “Feeding. And I can’t imagine it wouldn’t want Hongbin in the end as well. If they find out how desperately we need help— you know they’ll press our hands.” He looked to Hongbin, meeting his eyes, this new information heavy in his gaze. “Are you okay with that?”

Hongbin swallowed, but his own eyes didn’t waver. “If it means saving Jaehwan, yes.”

Taekwoon’s face twisted, and Hongbin could read the horror, though it was Jaehwan who spoke up from behind Hongbin. “No,” Jaehwan said flatly. “Hongbin— no. I’m not okay with that either.”

“It can’t happen,” Taekwoon said, vehement. “It can’t.”

Taekwoon’s chest was heaving. Hongbin didn’t want to judge him for any of this, he loved Jaehwan, Hongbin knew he did. They both would go to different extremes to save him. Sex was a low price, for Hongbin; so was blood. It was something he’d considered long ago, becoming a feeder, but Taekwoon— he hated vampires in a different way. Hongbin didn’t think he would ever be able to truly grasp, or understand, the depth of that hatred. He couldn’t blame Taekwoon for not wanting to put his body on the table for Jaehwan in that way, but he didn’t have the right to tell Hongbin or Jaehwan they couldn’t offer what they chose. 

“I think we need to sit down with the vampire and talk terms,” Hongbin said, chin up, defiant, knowing this was going to be a fight. “It won’t go away, you know it won’t, and we can’t kill it. We may as well take advantage.”

“I will not,” Taekwoon said slowly, voice rising with each word, “make deals with vampires.”

“No one is asking you to.”

“You’re not doing it either,” Taekwoon said, in a tone that was clearly meant to be an order. It made Hongbin’s lip curl. “Over my fucking dead body—”

“Or Jaehwan’s?” Hongbin fairly shouted. “You’re so fucking—” Something damp and fairly firm smacked the top of Hongbin’s head, bouncing off. He looked down to see a toad hitting the air mattress, leaving a little wet patch as it rolled off. “What—”

“Sorry,” Jaehwan whispered, and Hongbin turned to see him sitting hunched over, hands covering his face. Hongbin could see his shoulders shaking as he breathed harshly. “I’m— you two need to—”

“We’ll stop,” Taekwoon said immediately, glaring at Hongbin like this was _his_ fault. Another toad fell from the ceiling, landing with a sad noise beside the sink. “Do you need anything?”

“I need you both to get out of here,” Jaehwan panted, not looking up.

Taekwoon couldn’t hide the spasm of pain that crossed over his face fast enough, the reluctance in his movements as he made for the stairs. “Okay,” he said softly, reaching out as he moved and grabbing Hongbin so he could tug him up the stairs with him. “Come on.”

Hongbin let himself be led, only yanking his wrist out of Taekwoon’s grasp once they were in the kitchen, the pantry floor door closed. It may have been just as well— the sun would be coming up within moments, and they couldn’t be stuck down there all day. 

They had to hope Jaehwan would be able to bring himself back down, but with Taekwoon away, it probably wouldn’t be an issue. For Hongbin, it wasn’t over. 

“You,” Hongbin hissed, pushing his face near to Taekwoon’s, “are such an overbearing sack of shit sometimes. Considering this is _your_ mess—” He gestured at the closed pantry door. “You’d think you’d be more willing to clean it up. Even if it means swallowing your pride and making a deal with a sucker.”

Taekwoon took a step back. “They’re serial murderers, Hongbin,” he said coldly. “It isn’t about pride, it is just— do we want life at that cost? At what point have we crossed the line?”

“There are no lines, Taekwoon,” Hongbin said, hearing the exasperation and despair creeping into his own voice. “They’re all in your head. Everything is fair game.” He watched as Taekwoon pressed his lips together, shaking his head slightly as he did so. Hongbin was so sick of this. “You want to save Jaehwan, but you only seem to want to save him— cleanly. Why? Afraid to touch him if he’s a bit bloody?”

It was a low blow, and Hongbin knew it was a low blow, but he felt a vicious sense of victory when Taekwoon flinched anyway. “No,” Taekwoon said softly, not meeting his eyes now. “No. I just— Jaehwan is _good_ , Hongbin. Of the three of us, you know he is the least— least—”

“Ruined?” Hongbin finished bitterly. Yes. It was true. Jaehwan, despite his illness, was the most whole of the three of them. 

“We’re not ruined,” Taekwoon said, firm, but Hongbin didn’t believe him. “We just have dirty hands. Jaehwan doesn’t. I want to keep him that way. He’s— it’s something worth preserving. Do you disagree?”

Hongbin shook his head. “No, I don’t— but making a deal with a vampire to save his own life won’t destroy it, Taekwoon,” he said. “You want to protect him.” He paused, then added in a softer tone. “I do too. But he isn’t a child. No matter how much he may act like one sometimes, and the softness in him you’re trying to protect— he knows, Taekwoon. He knows the darkness of the world, he’s looking down into the abyss of death. The part of him you’re trying to protect hasn’t withered in the face of it, it won’t disappear if a vampire comes into the mix.” He held his tongue, that Taekwoon had never tried to protect Hongbin’s softness. But maybe Hongbin had never been soft, not even as a child. Maybe they couldn’t be compared. Hongbin had always been tainted. 

Taekwoon looked miserable, mouth twisting. “I’m tired of failing him.” He blinked quickly, looking out the kitchen window, at the lightening sky. Hongbin didn’t think he was imagining the new wetness in Taekwoon’s eyes. “I don’t want him to have to do this. Sell himself so he doesn’t die.” 

“It isn’t your choice. It’s his. And you need to allow him to make it.”

Taekwoon shook his head, turning away, and Hongbin sighed. 

——

No sleep wasn’t a good look on him, but Taekwoon couldn’t postpone returning to work any longer. The burns had faded, peeling lightly like a normal sunburn would. It was his fault he hadn’t slept; he’d let himself get too worked up, laying in bed staring at the ceiling, room just shy of being too bright. 

He lay there, listening to the birds chirping outside as he tried to get his bearings. Idly, he wondered if Hongbin was having as much trouble sleeping as he had. But Hongbin didn’t have a shift until later. And Jaehwan— Jaehwan had never had trouble sleeping. He was fine. Fine for now.

Taekwoon bit his bottom lip hard, closing his eyes as he tried to tamp down the swell of emotions surging up again. God, he just— Jaehwan—

Taekwoon had made so many mistakes. There were so many things wrong. Things he had done wrong, things that were wrong with him. 

He never should have laid hands on Jaehwan. Not the way he had, not even if Jaehwan had melted into his touch, not even if—

It had been a stupid, impulsive thing to do. They both had been so much younger. But Taekwoon was weak, had always been weak. And that night, sleepy and soft, the weakness had overcome him, the temptation. But it wasn’t right. And Jaehwan deserved better. Jaehwan deserved— so much—

He deserved, at the least, for Taekwoon not to have the thoughts he had about him. They were friends, best friends. Taekwoon was a bastard, for wanting him, for living that night over and over, for wanting it again, for every time he touched Jaehwan’s wrist and it sent a wave of warmth through him. Friends shouldn’t have these feelings. Especially not when Jaehwan trusted Taekwoon so much, relied on him so much. 

And then there was Hongbin, who didn’t deserve it either, didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of this, of Taekwoon’s unnatural feelings. He was barely more than a kid. Taekwoon owed them both so much better.

He just wished he knew how he could give it to them, how he could make it all right again.

Taekwoon swallowed thickly, exhaling with a shaky sigh, and then got up to shower so he could head to work.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stares into the camera. You know. By chapter 6, I had wanted Certain Things to have happened, and we are now on chapter 7, and those Things have not nearly happened. I wanted this to be a normal length. I wanted it to be like, 20 chapters. Why can't I write anything short. Why this. Why me. 
> 
> also i am sorry i suck so bad at replying to comments i'm a failure i know im sORRY.

Hongbin took the bus home from work, shrugging off Taekwoon’s offer for a ride when he came by the store. He didn’t think he could stomach being in a car alone with him right now. Truth be told he wasn’t sure how he was going to get through being locked in the basement with him all night again, but he’d worry about that when they were actually there. Hongbin hadn’t looked at Taekwoon when he’d rejected the offer, but he could sense the hurt. That was just tough shit.

He was surprised, though, when he walked up the driveway and Taekwoon’s car wasn’t there. But maybe Taekwoon had gone for a drive, needed some time to unwind. Lord knew his tighty whities were so twisted and rammed up his ass he could do with some unwinding. The sun was setting though, so he would be home soon. Hongbin wasn’t going to worry about it. 

The house was dim and quiet, in that way Hongbin hated, but he was still too miffed to find it bothersome. Nothing tamped fear down quite like anger. He’d been angry all through his shift, but he hadn’t wanted to get sent home early again. So he’d held it bottled in his core so densely packed he wouldn’t be surprised if it had turned into a diamond under the pressure. The effort just made him even surlier in the aftermath. 

He went through the house to the kitchen, turning the lights on as he went. The sink was empty, the kitchen as clean as it ever got, so he couldn’t even stress clean without it being excessive. Hongbin gripped the edge of the counter, staring out into the backyard, where the vampire trap had been, then at the gently swinging tire hanging from the tree. He stared, and stared, until the sunlight had faded, until all he was seeing was his own reflection in the glass of the window. 

There was a noise, a knock, sharp, and Hongbin startled, whirling to look at the pantry door. Jaehwan, wanting to come up. The urgency didn’t escape Hongbin, and he strode to the pantry, pulling up the door set into the floor and revealing Jaehwan staring up, looking very alert. “It’s dark, and Taekwoon isn’t back yet,” Hongbin said.

“I know,” Jaehwan said quickly, “I texted him, sending him down into the valley for a potion ingredient—”

“Which potion?”

“One that I made up, because I needed him to get home later than you,” Jaehwan said, and Hongbin felt his eyebrows raise. Taekwoon liked to think Jaehwan was an innocent flower but he had it in him to be a manipulative shit too. “He will be back any moment, I can sense it. I need to talk to you.”

Hongbin stepped back so Jaehwan could climb out fully. The set of his mouth was grim, stubborn in a way that reminded Hongbin of Taekwoon. “What’s up?”

“I have an idea, and I need your help for it.”

——

Taekwoon was damned lucky he didn’t get pulled over by a cop driving home— he wasn’t pushing the speed limit so much as smashing it with a hammer. But he’d caught traffic on the way home, the road from the valley long and winding, narrow, and had to make up for it somehow. The sun had hit the horizon and died faster than he’d expected. He hadn’t been out driving after dark in so long he’d forgotten one of his headlights was out. He was a breathing ticket waiting to happen. 

The wheels of the car skidded on the pavement as he turned into the driveway, bumper scraping on the concrete as the car bounced over the ditch at the entryway. His heart was hammering, but his earring was cool and quiet, so the vampires weren’t here, and the house lights were on, warm and yellow and inviting. It was still early, but he didn’t like it, he wouldn’t do this again. He’d only done it because he could sense Jaehwan’s anger, and the idea of it had made him a mess all day. He’d spilled three different orders and burned himself on the fucking toaster warming up a panini. He smelled like a sick mixture of a caramel machiatto and whatever plant substance Jaehwan had forced him to fetch— it smelled like slightly off cheese, leaves curled in a small fabric pouch which in turn was tucked into a brown paper bag. Taekwoon rolled his windows down so the car could air out overnight before grabbing the bag and scuttling out of the car. 

The front door was unlocked, waiting for him, and Taekwoon wasn’t sure he appreciated the gesture given the circumstances. “Hello?” he called, walking quickly into the kitchen when a quick scan of the living room revealed it to be empty. 

“Welcome home darling,” Hongbin said, sitting at the kitchen table alone. His tone was pure sarcasm, and Taekwoon scowled at him. Hongbin wrinkled his nose, looking to the bag. “What the fuck is that?” 

Taekwoon shrugged. “Jaehwan texted me asking me to pick it up for him, I can’t pronounce it— has he been up?” He looked to the pantry door, which was closed. His stomach dropped.

“No,” Hongbin said simply, examining his nails. “The red light is on, I figured he was working on something to wind off the energy from last night.” He looked up at Taekwoon then, gaze cool. “You should have left a note, I was worried when you weren’t back before sunset. But currying Jaehwan’s favor after acting the ass is more important than me, I guess.” 

“That isn’t—” Taekwoon began, then stopped, hand clenching on the paper bag so as to make it crinkle. “I was going to tell you on the drive home after picking you up from work, but you— you didn’t come with me. And this isn’t— I just— Jae said it was important.” 

Hongbin hummed, standing up. “Give it to him, then, I guess,” he said, flippant in a way that was anything but. 

Taekwoon fought to hide the hurt. He could understand them being angry with him, he deserved worse. But he was trying to protect them, trying to help. It was all he could do. He looked down at the bag in his hand, wondering what Jaehwan was doing, what was so important. He rarely asked Taekwoon for things so urgently. It didn’t bode well. 

He swallowed. “You might want to grab clothes for the night, maybe some food,” Taekwoon said softly. Hongbin raised an eyebrow at him. “Before the vampires come again, I mean. We’re going to be down in the basement all night.” 

Hongbin exhaled through his nose, then huffed out a laugh that was somehow almost cruel. “Of course,” he said, forcefully light. “Whatever, Taek. Whatever.” He left the room, and Taekwoon was a little surprised at the compliance, but maybe Hongbin was as tired of fighting as Taekwoon was. He could only hope Jaehwan would be so pliant. 

Taekwoon went to the pantry, opened the main door, and found darkness. “The red light isn’t on,” he called out to Hongbin in surprise, bending and knocking on the door down to Jaehwan’s room before opening it. Amber light spilled out, and Taekwoon took the stairs down tentatively. “Jaehwan?” he said, eyes on his feet to make sure he didn’t tumble down the stairs. Once he was on the thinly carpeted floor he looked to Jaehwan’s desk, opening his mouth and saying, “I got the plant you—”

He stopped. Jaehwan wasn’t at his desk. Taekwoon swerved to look around, but the bed was empty too.

“Jae?” Taekwoon called, more confusion than anything, and then there was a loud slamming noise, the room dimming some. He whirled to look, but it was too late, the door back up to the pantry was shut. Without thinking Taekwoon dropped the paper bag, rushing up the stairs and putting his hands on the door, shoving hard, but it remained closed. His heart felt like it was trying to flutter up, into his throat to choke him. There was a sort of thudding noise on the door, and it trembled against Taekwoon’s fingertips. The damn thing had no lock, but no matter how hard Taekwoon shoved it wouldn’t open. He went from pushing with his hands to shoving it with his shoulder, but still it didn’t budge. 

“Hongbin!” he screamed, “open this fucking door— _Hongbin_ —” He pounded on the wood, and it was all he could hear. “Jaehwan, Jaehwan god please don’t do this—”

But there was no reply, and the house wards began to ripple. 

——

“Can you hold him?” Jaehwan muttered urgently, piling more books around Hongbin, who was sitting on the door down to the basement. There was a bang, and Hongbin and the books jerked as the door rattled under them. 

Hongbin braced his hands on the shelves at his sides, steadying himself so as not to be dislodged. “He doesn’t work out enough,” he said, grinning like a shark, but it was empty of any amusement. 

In the planning stages, the idea had felt rebellious, maybe even a bit amusing. Taekwoon was so damned overbearing that it was about time something like this happened. But the reality was leaving Jaehwan cold; he could tell from the sound of Taekwoon’s muffled shouts he was probably having a panic attack. He could see in Hongbin’s eyes the whole thing discomfited him as well. 

“This was the only way,” Hongbin said, as if he was speaking Jaehwan’s own thoughts. “You know it was.” Another bang, another shudder. Hongbin’s hands tightened on the shelves, knuckles turning white. 

Around them, the wards of the house felt like disturbed water, ripples amplifying. It might not have been the only way, but it was the way they’d chosen. No going back now. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Jaehwan said, and he wasn’t sure who he was reassuring exactly. He could feel it, feel the creature on their property, close, touching it— the roof, perhaps, or the porch. He would find out. The energy in him swelled as his fear did, burning, and he worked to tamp it down. 

“Don’t die, it’ll kill Taekwoon,” Hongbin said simply, watching with eyes that were far too keen as Jaehwan stepped back, stepped away. Hongbin had always felt like an ancient in a kid’s body, ever since he was small. They’d get to the bottom of it one day. They would. Jaehwan would be here for it. 

He could feel that gaze on him as he walked away, to the back door. The outdoor light was off, and he flicked it on before opening the back door and stepping outside before he lost his nerve. 

The porch creaked under him, and he caught the sight of vampire out of the corner of his eye. It caused his heart to stutter, and he flinched before he could stop himself, gasping softly. The door shut behind him, the sound oddly final, and goosebumps rose all along Jaehwan’s arms, the back of his neck prickling. He worked for it, to make his startled face settle down into a frown, to look at the vampire directly and not flinch again. There was nothing to be done for the racing of his heart though, the sweat prickling at his temples. 

The vampire, Hakyeon, sat on one of their sun-bleached porch chairs. He looked rich and vibrant, unmarked and so very whole in contrast to the dilapidation encasing him, peeling paint and rotting wood. The leader of the pack, and it showed in every line of his body.

They said Lucifer was beautiful, Jaehwan thought inanely. So would death be, he figured. 

Hakyeon moved, making as if to stand, and Jaehwan felt himself go rigid. “Give me a reason,” Jaehwan said as coldly as he could muster when he felt frightened to his core. No matter what spells ran in his veins, the terror that vampires caused was instinctual, difficult to throw off. Hakyeon stilled, remained sitting, eyes flickering to Jaehwan’s tapping fingertips. He wondered if the vampire could see the energy gathering there. Jaehwan was surprised there weren’t actual sparks coming off his skin, his energy was running so thickly over the surface of himself. 

The vampire looked back up at Jaehwan’s face, and Jaehwan met his gaze, a challenge. Don’t look in their eyes, he knew, he _knew_ , but he wasn’t here as prey. 

“You seem better today,” Hakyeon remarked idly, but the casualness of the remark was dangerous, like a storm in the distance. “All recovered?”

Jaehwan ignored the jibe. He sat on the chair beside Hakyeon’s, and it groaned under his weight. The proximity was agony, but he’d done it, he was here, and somehow the sense of accomplishment kept some of the terror at bay. He could _do_ this. “You wanted to speak to me,” Jaehwan said, flat, soft, like he was in control, like he had the upper hand here. Like he wasn’t one breath away from a breakdown. “So speak.”

Hakyeon’s eyes flickered to the door. “Where are your friends?”

Anger rose in him, disproportionate, and it was the magic in him, the spell, making him volatile. “None of your fucking business.” The words were out before he could think to check them, and Hakyeon looked back at him, shock passing over his features, like he wasn’t used to being spoken to like that. Maybe he wasn’t. Jaehwan could run with it, he supposed. “Tell me what you wanted to speak to me about, or I will not give you another chance.”

Hakyeon eyed him, gaze assessing, and Jaehwan worked to keep his back straight, gaze clear. Jaehwan wondered what he saw, hoped it was a bold young sorcerer with enough power in him to be worthy of respect— and not just a dying human with a neck easily snapped. After last time, he needed to show he wasn’t completely weak, and he felt keyed up enough from fear that he almost wished Hakyeon would give him a reason. 

Finally, the vampire spoke. “I want to speak to you,” Hakyeon said slowly, “of the sunlight spell.”

Jaehwan exhaled, but didn’t let himself relax. “Yes, I’m aware. You want to know how I made it work, but—” He cut off. There was glamour tugging at him gently, coming on so slowly that he hadn’t noticed it at first. Like the vampire thought if he snuck up on him, he’d get hooks in him before Jaehwan could realize. “Give me your hand.” His voice was soft, and dangerous in its own way. 

Touching made glamour easier; the request was too sweet to pass on. Hakyeon frowned, hesitant, but he held his hand out, of course he did, the motion smooth and wrong. Jaehwan grabbed his wrist, and before Hakyeon could even try anything he let his own energy go, and it rushed through him, flooding to the point of contact like it was a conduit. Hakyeon cried out, wrenching himself out of Jaehwan’s grasp while Jaehwan’s palm was still feeling warm. The smell of burnt flesh was somewhat nauseating, and Hakyeon cradled his injured arm to his chest. Jaehwan could see the raw redness, the blisters. He would heal.

“Keep trying to glamour me and I’ll give you worse than that,” Jaehwan said quietly, and Hakyeon looked at him from under his lashes with such anger it shook Jaehwan a little. He didn’t enjoy causing pain, to anything. Not even vampires. But they couldn’t afford to let these creatures have even an inch. And the glamour was gone. Without its sweet tang, Jaehwan found himself on edge again, but it was better than letting himself be swayed. 

“Yes,” Hakyeon whispered, making himself straighten, putting his hands back in his lap. His arm was still red and angry looking, but Jaehwan could tell he was already healing. “Apologies. I suppose it is rude.” He glanced down, at the handprint shaped burn on his arm. It wouldn’t scar on him, not like it had on Taekwoon. “This is very— interesting magic. I can’t help but wonder why Taekwoon is so protective of you, when you are clearly much more dangerous than he.”

 _Because he loves me, because he feels guilty, because I am dying_ , Jaehwan thought, but he didn't allow himself to say any of it. “You’re a little too interested in him. It should be me you’re focused on.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I am plenty focused on you,” Hakyeon said lightly, still looking down at his slowly healing arm. Jaehwan swallowed. “You have not sold the secrets of this spell to anyone else,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Perhaps you are simply disinclined to. But maybe I can give you something worth it.” 

“Yes, Taekwoon said that as well,” Jaehwan said, “but what do you think you can give me?” 

Hakyeon looked back up at him from under his lashes, mouth curving slightly. “You’re dying,” he murmured, staring at Jaehwan in a way that suggested he expected a reaction. 

“I am,” Jaehwan said simply. “I’ve been dying for a while, and am quite resigned to it. But believe me when I say I have quite enough power in me, even now.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Hakyeon replied, leaning forward a little. Their faces were slightly too close, so close that Jaehwan could see the unique texture of his skin, the details of his irises. He was beautiful. But so were so many deadly things. “I can help you.”

“I don’t think you can,” Jaehwan said truthfully. Hakyeon blinked. “I’m going to die, and soon. There’s nothing to be done.” 

Hakyeon sat back, slow, very slow, reclining back on the rotting chair like it was a throne. Jaehwan felt like he could breathe a bit better without him so near. “Does trying hurt, though?” Hakyeon asked, tone light.

“It does if you get the spoils and we get nothing but graves,” Jaehwan snapped back, and Hakyeon’s brow arched, as if to say Jaehwan had a point. 

“I do not know why you are dying,” Hakyeon said, the words weighted, careful, “but we have resources. I have— connections. I cannot make a true promise, no, we shan’t know until we try, but I do believe I could help you.” 

Jaehwan wanted to believe it, he did. But deep in his heart of hearts, he knew there was no hope. Spells lived, they lived until their power ran out, or until their vessel was destroyed. Unless the vampire could reverse the spell— but how could it, when there was nothing to reverse, it simply _lived_ , lived in Jaehwan’s blood. And it would live until Jaehwan didn’t anymore. 

Jaehwan looked away, over the yard, the fence, the treetops, to the moon hanging bright in the sky. “No deal,” he whispered. “Not unless I get more specifics, not unless I know you can help me.”

Hakyeon made a noise, and Jaehwan could not put words to describe it— he could only liken it to the sound a snake made when moving through the underbrush, a soft, sinister shifting noise. “I’m not going to go away,” Hakyeon said quietly. “We are not going to go away. I’m going to get that spell.”

His voice washed over Jaehwan, and it made him feel cold. Jaehwan stared at the moon hard, but it was difficult, to keep his eyes off the vampire. “Well, you won’t get it from me, not until— not until I’m actually better.”

“Ah, that is how it is, is it?” Hakyeon said, light amusement in his tone. “Fix you first, then I get what I want?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Hakyeon said simply. “I don’t trust you either.”

Jaehwan looked back at him, met his eyes. “Then no fucking deal.”

The amusement was gone from Hakyeon, and his stare was raising goosebumps on Jaehwan’s body again. “No deal,” he murmured, pensive. “Then you will die. And what will happen to your friends after you’re gone?” His tone was too light. It felt like ice water trickling down Jaehwan’s spine. Hakyeon looked down at his pressed slacks, flicking off a fleck of paint. “You know as well as I do there’ll be nothing to keep them safe, not with you out of the picture.”

“Is that a threat?” Jaehwan asked.

“Merely an observation.” 

Jaehwan’s heart was pounding. The damn creature had him there. He might be somewhat resigned to death— but with him gone, these creatures would have free reign. And— it wanted—

“You want Taekwoon,” Jaehwan said numbly, and the vampire blinked, eyes going a little hooded. “He told me. He’s not on the table— neither is Hongbin. This is between you and me.”

“No, it isn’t, especially not after you’re gone,” Hakyeon said, lacing his hands together, posture relaxed while Jaehwan felt rigid with tension. “Between you and I, there is the spell. Between me and Taekwoon— I want him, yes. I told him last night, and I will tell you now, I won’t force him. However, if he should choose to offer himself up, that is his choice.”

 _Offer himself up_ , Jaehwan thought, _in exchange for what? Safety after I’m gone? No— No—_

Jaehwan swallowed. “New deal,” he whispered. Hakyeon sat up straighter, listening. “If I give you the spell, will you leave us alone? Will you— leave Taekwoon alone?”

Something passed across Hakyeon’s face. “Yes.”

Jaehwan didn’t know whether to believe him or not. It was easy to agree to now, but what about after, what about when they knew Jaehwan was the spell. “And you— you’ll put us in contact with a sorcerer that might be able to help me?”

Hakyeon was squinting slightly, but he nodded.

It was all they could do. A shot in the dark at saving Jaehwan, and safety from this creature for if it failed. When it failed. 

The pressing question was, could Jaehwan fulfil his end of the bargain in such a thorough way at all? He could tell Hakyeon what he had done, yes— but he could not give him the spell, not truly, when he did not know how to replicate it, when he was still unsure what he had even done. And if he did not hold up his end, then the vampire would not be liable for his own side. 

Jaehwan bit his bottom lip. He’d need to make sure he could piece the spell back together, before he agreed to this. It had been so long, and he’d spent that time trying to undo it, not figure out how to do it again. 

“I will have to— think on this,” he said haltingly, and Hakyeon’s eyes gave away nothing. “I’d appreciate it if you gave us some time to do so.”

“Of course,” Hakyeon said, voice light and neutral. “You understand that in the interest of protecting my investments, I will have to place a watch on you.”

Protecting his investments. Keeping them from running. Or worse, keeping other vampires away. The word would get out, in the end. Heaven help them.

Hakyeon stood, and Jaehwan did as well. They were about eye level, but Hakyeon seemed to loom over him anyway. “I will begin to dig for contacts that could help you,” Hakyeon said, and Jaehwan was a little surprised by that. A gesture of good faith perhaps. Or a lie. “Give my regards to your— friends.” 

Jaehwan felt so cold. He said nothing. And then Hakyeon was gone, but he wasn’t _gone_ , Jaehwan could still sense him. The vampire was simply off the property, out of sight, Watching, waiting, as he would do until Jaehwan submitted. Or until Taekwoon did.

No. 

Jaehwan turned and went back into the house, feeling the darkness of the night, and Hakyeon’s stare, weigh heavily on his narrow shoulders. 

——

Hongbin’s butt was numb by the time Jaehwan came back into the house and the wards had quieted. It took him a few seconds to pry his own fingers off the shelves, as they’d gone stiff with how hard he’d been holding onto the wood. 

Jaehwan looked weary, but he was alive, and Hongbin’s chest felt lighter as he breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened?” he asked, looking up at Jaehwan’s face.

“I realized our ace may not be as much of an ace as I thought,” Jaehwan said quietly, and Hongbin frowned. In reply, Jaehwan simply shook his head, motioning at Hongbin to move. “We have to let him up.”

Hongbin sighed. “He stopped banging a while ago, I think he may have knocked himself out,” he said, and Jaehwan winced. He didn’t help Hongbin up, was probably running way too high for touch right now, so Hongbin climbed back to his feet unaided. The two of them shoved the books out of the way— extra weight that may or may not have done anything.

Truthfully, Hongbin found the silence a bit ominous, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. They wouldn't have had to resort to drastic measures, if Taekwoon wasn’t so damn bullheaded. 

The lights were on in the basement, warm, when they finally pulled the door open. Hongbin had expected Taekwoon’s face to greet them, for him to push past them, shouting, angry. But Taekwoon was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, turned away from them. 

“Taekwoon,” Jaehwan said softly, peering down, and Taekwoon turned, face streaked with tears, cheeks blotchy red. Hongbin could see him shaking. 

“That wasn’t fair,” was all Taekwoon said, voice catching. He stood, coming up the stairs. Hongbin scoot back so Taekwoon could come out of the basement, walk out of the pantry. He didn’t make it far; he made it to the table, before he braced a hand on the wood, shaking intensifying.

“Taek,” Jaehwan whispered, standing, clearly unsure what to do. Taekwoon rarely cried. The last time had been— when Jaehwan lay in the middle of a broken pentagram, drowning on his own blood. “I needed to talk to the vampire. I’m sorry, but— it had to be done.”

Taekwoon wasn’t looking at them as he shook his head. “Not that way,” he gasped. “Not that way.” 

“I won’t do it again, I promise,” Jaehwan said, and as usual, Hongbin felt weirdly like he was caught in a lovers’ spat. “Taekwoon, look at me.”

It took a moment, but then Taekwoon turned. There was something to him, something broken. No matter how much of an ass he could be, Hongbin could see they’d, perhaps, crossed a line they shouldn’t have. They’d frightened Taekwoon. Maybe it hadn’t been fair.

Life wasn’t fair. 

Hongbin stepped forward, touching Taekwoon’s shoulder lightly as he passed him, the only apology he could give. Taekwoon turned his face away again. 

——

The edges of Taekwoon’s vision were still flickering black, and he breathed to try and stabilize himself. But the kitchen felt as if didn’t have enough air in it.

It had more than the basement had.

“Taekwoon,” Jaehwan was saying, voice sounding like it was coming from a long way off. Taekwoon had one hand against the table, bracing, and he brought the other to press against his stomach, like that would hold himself together. 

Jaehwan was alive, was whole, and it was a relief, but Taekwoon could barely feel it through the terror still running through him. He’d never be able to go down to the basement again. It felt like he’d been down there for an endless stretch of time, that he’d never escape, he’d have to be caught in a snare as his loves were killed. He’d kept waiting to hear screams filtering through the wood. They hadn’t come, but the nightmare of it would last. 

Was this how Jaehwan felt down there during the day, he wondered, feeling sick with it. No, no, it wasn’t the same.

“ _Taekwoon_ ,” Jaehwan’s voice was sharp and loud by his ear. Taekwoon turned, made an effort to focus through the spots and the blurriness of tears. Jaehwan’s brow was hitched, eyes concerned as they roved over Taekwoon’s face. “I didn’t take the deal, Taekwoon.” 

Taekwoon blinked. It caused warm tears to roll down his cheeks anew. “What?” he asked hoarsely, not making sense of the words.

“With the vampire, I didn’t make any deals,” Jaehwan said, almost a little sharp. “You don’t have to— to freak out— it’s okay.”

Taekwoon wanted to hit him; not a punch, just a slap. But he’d never hurt Jaehwan, no matter that maybe sometimes he needed a good smack. “You think that’s what this is about,” he said numbly, hand clenching in the material of his own shirt. 

Jaehwan frowned, clearly lost, and Taekwoon laughed, breathless and without amusement. He felt so sick. 

“You think— you think this is about me not getting my way?” Taekwoon asked, voice rising at the end without him meaning for it to. “You fucking terrified me.”

Jaehwan’s expression cleared, the frown smoothing out. “Taek—”

“I thought you were going to die, I thought I was going to be trapped down there as you were torn apart.”

“You need to have more faith in me,” Jaehwan said softly, evenly, not matching Taekwoon’s rising volume. “I’m not stupid nor weak, Taekwoon.”

“It isn’t about faith, and it isn’t about power,” Taekwoon cried. “It is about _them_ , and what they are. I— they could have—” He cut off, his breath hissing out through his teeth. “I try, Jaehwan. I know you think I am just— bossy, and stubborn, for nothing. But I— I love you. I love you more than— I love you. And I love Hongbin. You two are everything. I just want to protect you. And you just— you resent me for it. Both of you.”

Jaehwan’s voice was so soft as to be barely audible. “I don’t resent you for it, Taekwoon.”

“Then you resent me for failing.” Taekwoon couldn’t keep the bitter note out of the words.

“No.”

“Then why?”

Jaehwan’s face twisted. “This wasn’t about you,” he said, and Taekwoon snorted. “It wasn’t. I didn’t do it to punish you. And I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You knew it would, though,” Taekwoon said, the anger suddenly dissipating under a wave of exhaustion. The tears had stopped, but he could feel them still prickling dangerously at the backs of his eyes. His throat felt tight. 

Jaehwan appeared to be thinking, fidgeting in a way Taekwoon could read well enough as discomfort. “I knew— knew you wouldn’t be happy,” he admitted. “But I didn’t know you’d be like— this. I didn’t know it would hurt you like this, no.” The lie rang clear between them, and judging by Jaehwan’s face, he knew it. “But Taekwoon— I am a person too. I want to have autonomy over my own life, my own decisions.”

So much time, so much of Taekwoon, had been given to them. To the worry, to the effort of keeping them safe, and as well as possible. Taekwoon had given so much, it consumed him. He’d never asked for anything back, had done it all as quietly as possible, but it had eaten up so much of him. It was all he was. They were all he had. And they didn’t know. Jaehwan didn’t _understand_. It was so much, it was too much, and they had never cared. 

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, in the end, if you’d really wanted to speak to the vampire,” Taekwoon whispered. “I wouldn’t have— I would have hated it, but I would have stood by your side. You didn’t have to— you—” He cut off, unsure what he was trying to convey. He wanted to reach out and touch Jaehwan, but he also was repulsed by the very idea of it right now. He felt so unclean, and the handprint-shaped scar on his forearm burned. “I— I thought you trusted me.” Jaehwan’s eyes were wide, and his mouth moved, forming the words _I do_ , but no sound came out. “I trusted you.”

Jaehwan’s face spasmed. “Taekwoon—”

He couldn’t listen to whatever it was Jaehwan was going to say, whatever reasons he had. “I feel sick,” Taekwoon murmured, ducking his head and pushing away from the table. Before he was out of the room he caught a flash of Jaehwan’s face, saw he was stricken. 

He was stumbling a little, footing somewhat unsure, and he felt like the walls were closing in on him. The hallway loomed, but he passed it by. He needed to get out, away. 

The front door was open and he was stepping through it before he could process it.

——

That hadn’t really gone how Hakyeon had anticipated, nor really how he had hoped. He supposed it could be considered progress, one step closer to the spell. But the cost of it left him feeling surprisingly hollow. 

_Taekwoon_ , he thought, staring out over the rooftops, illuminated brightly under the silver moon. The sound of a door slamming caught his attention, a bright beam of golden light falling out over the hunters’ lawn, a broad shadow flickering through it. 

The sound of footsteps was loud in the night to Hakyeon’s keen ears, and he watched from the neighbor’s roof as Taekwoon half leapt of their front porch, striding over concrete and grass onto the sidewalk. “Taekwoon!” a voice called, that Hakyeon recognized as Jaehwan’s. His shadow lingered in the light spilling out over the front yard, but he did not give chase as Taekwoon stalked away from the house, simply watched. 

Hakyeon, however, followed Taekwoon, keeping him in his line of sight. The hunter had his head bowed, breath rattling shakily through him as his heart pounded. His hands were fists at his side as he walked, and his footsteps weren’t exactly steady. The silver cross in his ear glinted in the moonlight as it swung. 

When Taekwoon reached the end of the block and was able to turn down a new street, he slowed some. Hakyeon could hear soft sniffles, the gentle hitching of breath. A lovers quarrel, perhaps. Taekwoon said he and the sorcerer weren’t lovers, but there was something there nonetheless, Hakyeon could see it clearly enough. He could also see it coming apart at the seams, unravelling like a bad stitch. 

Wandering alone at night wasn’t the safest policy, but Taekwoon, despite his lacking skills as a hunter, was either confident enough, or upset enough, to not care currently. Hakyeon could see the holster of his dagger hanging at his side. Not totally stupid, then. 

Taekwoon kept walking, shuffling slowly, and Hakyeon flittered down, off the rooftops, so he could trail after Taekwoon on the sidewalk. He wasn’t that close, but in Taekwoon’s wake he could smell the acidic scent of coffee, and under that the unpleasant tang of sweat and fear. 

Hakyeon moved silently, he was sure he did, but ahead of him Taekwoon abruptly stopped and turned, looking behind him right at Hakyeon. Taekwoon jerked, a little, but it was all the indication he gave that Hakyeon had startled him. His cheeks shone damply with tears, tendrils of hair stuck down to his temples. And his eyes, they were hooded and bright.

 _He’d be beautiful, as one of my kind_ , Hakyeon thought, as Taekwoon stared back at him. 

Taekwoon’s lips parted. “Leave,” he rasped, and Hakyeon looked away, flittering back onto the rooftops and out of Taekwoon’s sight once more. The soft sound of Taekwoon’s sobs were audible even then.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had like a mini-writing crisis last week, i just had a meltdown where i was like I HATE ALL THE THINGS and was contemplating taking this fic down and rewriting it. i decided, in the end, to just push forward and do better !!! if i still hate it by the time i finish the fic i might rewrite the first few chapters then, but for now... i will leave them be. 
> 
> a huge thank you to rara for writing some of this chapter for me when i was having a hard time :c u da real mvp bb

The breeze played softly across Hakyeon’s hair, ruffling it lightly. He perched on the roof of the house opposite Taekwoon’s, crouched in the shadow of the chimney stack. It was dark, quiet. Taekwoon had come back not long after he’d left, no more than an hour later, trudging up to the front door without a single glance in Hakyeon’s direction. He’d stopped crying, at least, but there’d been something defeated about the curve of his shoulders. Hakyeon had not liked it. 

After Taekwoon had gone inside Hakyeon had braced himself for more yelling but there had been nothing. Lights had been switched on through various parts of the house, then switched off again. Now the building stood in darkness, and Hakyeon kept watch. No doubt they knew he was out there, or at least suspected, but nobody had come to yell at him, at least. 

Still, it was getting late— or early, as the case may be. He had time to get back home before dawn came, a good hour off yet, but he didn’t think any of the humans would be emerging again, so there was not much point hanging around as dawn neared. And it was better to leave with time to spare. He did not much feel like being chased by the sun as he headed home; neither did he feel like dragging his sun-tired body through the tunnels to his house and into bed. 

Hakyeon straightened, a hand against the chimney stack for balance, the grit of the bricks leaving a residue on his skin. When he moved, his footsteps made no sound, even as he flickered across the roof tiles from one roof to the next. It took him very little time to get home, and when he stepped into his house, underground and cool, he found that both of his children were still awake. Sanghyuk was sitting on one of their large couches with a book, Wonshik sitting at the counter, sucking at a blood bag and kicking his feet a little like a child. 

Hakyeon feigned being pleasantly surprised. “You waited up for me?” 

Sanghyuk peered at him over his book. “Oh, you were out? We didn’t even notice.” 

“That is a lie and we all know it,” Hakyeon said. He didn’t have to work feign the offended tone in his voice, it was completely genuine. 

“Where did you go?” Wonshik asked. He hopped off the stool he was sitting on so he could toss the empty blood bag into the trash. 

“I went to see our hunter friends,” Hakyeon said. “There was an— ah, an incident, of sorts.” He paused, trying to figure out how to put into words. “I spoke with the sorcerer, Jaehwan.” 

“You did?” Sanghyuk said, perking up, like the wannabe academic that he was. “About the spell? Did he give you anything? It’s killing me, not knowing.” 

“No,” said Hakyeon, mouth twisting. “I’d hoped that playing on his illness would tempt him, but he seems to have very little regard for his own mortality, and his looming death. He did not accept my offer of help in exchange for the spell.”

“He’s an idiot,” Wonshik said bluntly, almost dismissive, while Sanghyuk frowned, taking the news differently.

“No,” murmured Hakyeon. “He seemed to simply be under the impression we could not help him, and he may be right. We don’t know the specifics of his case, and perhaps it truly is hopeless. He doesn’t want to give me the spell and get nothing in return, in the end. However, after some— some prodding, he said that—” Hakyeon paused; this still left a sour taste in his mouth. “He offered to give us the spell, but in return we must leave them be.” 

There was a moment of silence. Then Wonshik said incredulously, “And you agreed to that?”

“ _Did_ he tell you about the spell?” Sanghyuk asked, almost at the exact same moment. 

“No,” said Hakyeon, addressing Sanghyuk quite deliberately. He would feel Wonshik’s eyes on him, and he avoided meeting them. Both of his children knew him very well, of course they did, but Sanghyuk tended to be a bit less introspective, not quite as good at reading others. Wonshik, on the other hand, had honed his people skills through the centuries and was practically a mind reader at this point, catching the smallest facial expressions, the slightest change in the cadence of a voice. And he’d been at Hakyeon’s side for far too long not to take note of every nuance Hakyeon had. 

Sanghyuk knew Hakyeon had felt Jungsu’s death, but he’d never seemed to realize Hakyeon had been _affected_. Wonshik knew, just like he knew to keep his mouth shut about it. But it had slipped out, in the incredulity of his question. He understood what it meant for Hakyeon to have found interest in someone again. 

Hakyeon shook himself. “No,” he repeated. “Jaehwan said he needed time to think about it, talk it over with the others.” 

Wonshik wasn’t letting it go. “So if he agrees, and he tells us, we leave them alone? You agreed to that?” he asked again, and Hakyeon finally looked at him, squinting in warning. 

“ _I_ didn’t agree to that,” said Sanghyuk sulkily. 

“He’s not going to tell us,” Hakyeon said, feeling exasperated. “He’s trying to stall for time, it was as obvious as a full moon. He doesn’t have any poker face to speak of. But stalling could benefit us— if we figure the spell out before he tells us, we won’t be bound to any agreements.”

“That’s all very well and good,” Sanghyuk said, voice flat, “but I still have no idea what this spell is, Hakyeon.” 

“Keep looking,” Hakyeon said. He wasn’t going to give up this easily. “In the meantime, I’ve offered to put him in contact with a sorcerer who might be able to help him, as a gesture of good faith.” 

“Ah,” said Sanghyuk. “The witch?”

Hakyeon nodded. Dawn was close now; Hakyeon could feel it creeping into his awareness, slowing his movements down. Wonshik yawned, not even bothering to cover his mouth. Hakyeon wrinkled his nose at him. “Sorry,” Wonshik mumbled. 

“I’m going to bed,” Hakyeon said, shaking his head. They would see what tomorrow night would bring, and hope Jaehwan would continue to stall.

——

It wasn’t morning anymore, not really, but Taekwoon felt the night clawing him back even so, making his eyelids heavy, mind slow. He hadn’t slept well, when he’d eventually wandered back home, could never truly settle after a proper fight. And this had been so much more than that. 

Jaehwan had tried, tried to snag Taekwoon when he’d come home, clearly fidgety, but Taekwoon hadn’t had it in him to listen to more excuses, more reasons. It didn’t matter. Nothing Jaehwan could say would make Taekwoon feel any less betrayed. And, weirdly, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad over Jaehwan’s upset, which was a definite first. 

Taekwoon tapped his fingers over the high wooden bar, wondering if he should make himself another cup of coffee. He didn’t really think that was the issue; he’d wiped down all the free tables twice over, redid the dishes by the sink, scraped at the espresso machine— his body was fine. It was his mind that was lagging. 

He wanted rest. Not even sleep, necessarily, just rest. Peace. He moved his hand into a beam of sunlight, felt the immediate warmth. It was brisk outside, but the sun shone brightly, crisp and clear. When he’d first woken, he’d been glad for its primitive comfort. He hadn’t had anything else; the house had been silent as he’d padded to the kitchen, Hongbin and Jaehwan tucked away in their respective beds, but the sunlight, it was always there for him.

The shadow was sharp on the wood under his hand, dark as pitch, in contrast to the shining white on his skin. 

His burn was better, he noted, turning his hand this way and that. It wasn’t red anymore, had settled into being a patchy tan. When pressed, he’d told his coworker he’d fallen asleep doing yard work, and that was how he’d gotten sunburnt. Which was a great laugh, because Taekwoon didn’t think he’d ever touched a damn rake.

The bell over the door tinkled, heralding the arrival of a customer. Taekwoon withdrew his hand. 

It was the girl who normally came in around this time, her ponytail high like usual. She’d forgone her blouse and light cardigan ensemble for a proper sweater, a thick number with blue and white stripes. Taekwoon liked it, but he rather thought it was because he owned one remarkably like it.

Her collarbones were quite decisively hidden, and Taekwoon gave a small sigh. 

She came up to the counter and gave him a hesitant smile, and he blinked at her in response. She was not deterred. “The usual?” she asked, and he hummed, punching it in. Soy green tea latte. She gave him exact change.

He moved off to make her order, and was surprised when her small voice piped up and over the machinery. “So, uhm, it’s really quiet in here today.”

Taekwoon glanced up at her, then out over the cafe. Yes, it was quiet. “Mm,” he said softly, and went back to pouring the milk. 

She didn’t interrupt him again, simply waited for her drink, which he finished with very little flourish and then handed it to her. As he did so, he noticed she looked a bit worn, blue smudges under her eyes. He didn’t know enough about the school schedule anymore to know if it was midterm season, or finals season, or— whatever.

 _Being nice doesn’t hurt_ , a small part of his brain whispered. It felt grossly like his conscience. 

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, and this time it was her who blinked. He looked away, tucking his thumbs into the pocket of his apron. “You look tired.”

“Ah, yeah, I’m okay!” she said, disproportionately enthused. “It’s just the attack last night was kinda really close to where I’m living, and my mom was like, flipping out.” She made a motion with her free hand, that Taekwoon supposed was meant to symbolize said flipping out. “And she started trying to get me to move home again, like we haven’t had that conversation five million times, and I’m just— sorry, you don’t— yeah, I’m fine.”

“Mm.” Taekwoon was squinting, he could feel it. Her chatter kind of reminded him of Jaehwan, when he was younger. Usually Taekwoon was pretty good at processing long streams of dialogue, but today all his faculties weren’t running. “Sorry, you said— an attack?”

She tipped her head to the side. He wondered what her name was. “Yeah, there was another attack last night. You know—” She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Vampire attack.”

Despite the warmth of the cafe, Taekwoon felt cold. “Ah,” he said lamely. “I hadn’t heard.”

“Sorry,” she said, like it was her fault. Her eyes roved over his face, large and dark. “It’s— upsetting, you know? So many in so short a time.”

“It is,” he said, though he knew it was lacking the proper inflection. He just couldn’t summon up enough of himself to be present in the conversation right now— he was just thinking of Hakyeon, of the sharp whiteness of his teeth. “Sorry, I need to—” He made a vague motion towards the sink, even though it was empty.

“Oh, yeah, totally!” she said, jumping back towards the door. Her motions were stiff. “Yeah, you’re working, like— yeah. Yeah. I’ll see you— soon? Yeah.” 

The door tinkled as she scuttled back through it, letting in a small rush of icy air. Before she was fully out of sight of the windows, Taekwoon saw her bury her face in her hand, ears red. 

She was cute, he thought, but it was dim under the darker things swirling around his mind. Taekwoon wasn’t normal, he couldn’t date, because he could never put down his silver blade. Not for long.

His hand went to his side instinctively, but his dagger was home, sitting on his dresser, not here. 

Taekwoon didn’t know where the girl lived, but if this attack was where the other two were— it meant there _was_ a second sucker out there, related to the first. They’d gotten caught up with Hakyeon and his lot— if the damned vamp hadn’t gotten involved, this might never have happened. Taekwoon could have stopped it.

That was, if Hakyeon himself wasn’t the guilty party. It was a dark thought, noxious, but wholly plausible. They’d met Hakyeon in the hunting grounds. 

_I haven’t killed a human in a great many years, I use feeders to sustain myself_ , Hakyeon had said, what felt like eons ago. 

“You’re all fucking liars,” Taekwoon whispered to himself, feeling a spike of anger towards Hakyeon, and by proxy, at Hongbin and Jaehwan. This was all vampires were. Monsters, killers. Why couldn’t they _see_. 

Taekwoon pulled his phone from his pocket to look up any articles he could find on this recent attack, reflecting sourly that this was going to be a long shift.

——

Hongbin knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant. There was a deep well of apathy inside him, that insisted he didn’t care, and yet he definitely did care. The nervousness gnawing at him betrayed it. Even pissed at him, Taekwoon always came by when they both had work, always offered him a ride home. But not today. Hongbin hadn’t seen nor heard from Taekwoon at all that day. It had been mid-afternoon when Hongbin woke up, and as far as he knew, Taekwoon had been at work. Not for the first time, Hongbin wished he had his phone back— if Hakyeon was going to be a continual pain in the ass, the least he could do was give Hongbin his shit so he could send Taekwoon rude texts when he was feeling grumpy. Or unsettled. As the case may be. 

When Hongbin stepped off the bus several blocks away from home, things were quiet, the sun still hanging low in the sky, like it was clinging on. Taekwoon’s car was parked in the driveway, and Hongbin exhaled a sigh of relief at the sight, but the sweet wash of feeling quickly give way to sharp annoyance. So, Taekwoon hadn’t driven into a ditch, he was fine— just being a brat. Fine. 

Hongbin tried to tug the front door open and found it locked. He huffed, because now Taekwoon was just being a jackass. It took him a few seconds to fumble for his keys, get them into the lock. When he finally pulled the door open, it was to see Taekwoon sitting on the couch, back turned to the front door, but he was still right fucking there, the dickhead. 

“Opening the door is too hard now?” Hongbin asked, stepping inside the house. Because that was how he dealt with upset, and hurt feelings; tiptoeing had never been his style. _Kindness_ had never been his style. He did biting sarcasm and hostility so much better.

Hongbin flicked the overhead light on, because the room was growing dim as the sun set. Taekwoon didn’t react to him. Hongbin stepped forward, saw pinpricks of red and blue— their map of the city, spread out across the coffee table. He swallowed. “You didn’t come by work to pick me up. Does driving with the stick up your ass hurt?”

He wished Taekwoon would snap at him, but he didn’t. The silence was starting to grate. Hongbin stomped around the couch so he could stare down at the map, then at Taekwoon’s stony face. Taekwoon didn’t look up at him, mouth a grim line.

“There’s been another attack,” Taekwoon said softly, and of course that would take precedence, over Hongbin, over everything else. 

“I heard at work,” Hongbin snapped, crossing his arms defensively. And he had, it had left him with a sick sinking feeling in his stomach. 

Taekwoon tapped two fingers on the map, leaning forward easily. “It was in the same area as the other two,” he said, and something about his tone was damning. “It’s the same vampires.”

Hongbin looked where Taekwoon had tapped, taking in the glowing runes over the map. “Possibly,” he agreed, and Taekwoon shot him a dirty look, upper lip curling. “What?”

“Do you still want to make deals with them now?” Taekwoon asked. The words were almost dripping poison, they were so dangerous. 

Hongbin opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I don’t think the vampires responsible for these attacks are— the ones we’re dealing with right now,” he said, and Taekwoon snorted. “You said yourself Hakyeon is an Elimia— his children probably are too. They didn’t get this far by killing humans in droves, Taek.” 

Hongbin knew he was talking sense, and he knew Taekwoon had, no doubt, had these exact thoughts. Taekwoon was many things, but he wasn’t an utter fool. As Hongbin glared down at him, Taekwoon looked away, back down at the map, shuffling slightly, and Hongbin knew he’d gotten him. 

“Does it even fucking matter if they’re not the same vamps?” Taekwoon asked, the level of hostility in his voice surprising Hongbin.

“Yes,” Hongbin shot back immediately. “It does.” Taekwoon made a noise akin to a growl. “I know you’re pissed off,” Hongbin continued slowly, “and you’re looking for a reason, but— it matters. They’re not the same suckers, and trying to pin this on them will only hinder us in finding the real culprits.”

Taekwoon’s face grew pinched. He hated being wrong, but he was, so he could just suck on that lemon wedge as far as Hongbin was concerned. Taekwoon shook his head, like that would knock his thoughts into order. "How do—” Taekwoon started, then stopped, looking frustrated. “Aren't you mad at them for almost eating you?" he demanded. "Twice."

"It's what vampires _do_ , Taekwoon, not to mention I have a spell in my blood specifically to try and get vampires to eat me. Like, we went out there with the _intention_ of getting a vamp to bite me. Can't exactly bitch about it, can I?" Hongbin asked.

The edges of Taekwoon’s mouth downturned. "That's— it's not—"

“It _is_ ,” Hongbin cut in, not really knowing what exactly Taekwoon was going to say, but it didn’t fucking matter. “You see vampires as a mass, a damned mass, and that is fine, Taekwoon. I’ve never tried to change that, because— you have your reasons.” Taekwoon’s face twisted. “But Jaehwan and I don’t have the same reasons. And I’m willing to judge vampires as individuals, especially if we’ve found some willing to help us save Jaehwan. Not everyone can hold grudges like you, Taek."

"Oh, that's rich," Taekwoon said, the sarcasm almost palpable. "You're the bitterest fucking person in the northern hemisphere. Also— it isn't a grudge if it's justified."

"It is still a grudge," Hongbin said with a sharp smile. "And I'm aware I'm bitter.” Oh, he knew. It was a noxious miasma in him, had been since he was small. The loss of his future had turned him cold. 

Taekwoon was frowning slightly, expression somewhat reproachful, and Hongbin sighed. “I don't _like_ them, Taekwoon,” he felt compelled to add. “I can feel their mouths on my skin still. Not just the ones currently haunting us, but all of them, even the ones we've killed. But they are what they are, and we are what we are. It isn't anything more or less than that." He paused and then added softly, "At least, not for me."

Taekwoon stared at him, his throat working as emotions battled behind his eyes. Hongbin knew this was hard for him, that Taekwoon couldn’t understand, could never understand, not anymore than Hongbin could ever truly understand Taekwoon’s mind. 

Hongbin watched as Taekwoon’s mouth twisted sharply, his gaze casting down as he stood, gathering up the canvas map as he did so. “What are you doing?” Hongbin asked as Taekwoon stepped past him, heading for the hallway.

“It’s going to be dark soon, so I’m taking a shower before the suckers arrive,” Taekwoon said, biting the words out. He didn’t look back as he added, “Gotta give you and Jaehwan a little time to plan out if you’re going to chloroform me tonight.”

Hongbin watched him disappear into the dark hallway and heaved a sigh after the sound of a door slamming reverberated through the house. Chloroform might be a mercy at this point.

——

Hakyeon had never been a particularly late sleeper, he wasn’t Wonshik, but neither had he ever been a dusk child. Waking up as the sun touched the horizon was beginning to wear on him, though not enough for him to stop. He didn’t want to risk the hunters running. He didn’t think they would, but in this case, it was better safe than sorry.

Sanghyuk was just waking up as Hakyeon left, his child clad in boxers and a soft robe. “Is that my sweater?” he asked, as Hakyeon made his way to the main door of their home. 

“I paid for it, so technically, it is mine,” Hakyeon said, not pausing. Sanghyuk simply smiled around the rim of his breakfast mug of blood as he watched Hakyeon go. Hakyeon had blearily had a blood bag right from the fridge after waking up. Something warm sounded great, but he didn’t think Taekwoon would oblige him.

The absurdity of the thought made him laugh, chuckling to himself as he left his home, their front door opening into craggy tunnels, walls damp and covered in lichen. He followed the tunnel as it gently sloped upwards, until he reached the mouth of it, and it released him into a copse of trees. The reaching leaves of various shrubs brushed against him lightly as he stepped out under the canopy of branches. Weak light filtered through the leaves above him, the sky still residually grey, and Hakyeon inhaled the cool air. He liked the scent of greenery. 

He flickered through the trees, moving out onto the packed dirt path. They lived on the northern end of the park, where the hills began, and the trails began to be something more akin to hiking trails, as opposed to small scenic walks. Taekwoon’s house was well away, nearer to the south side, and definitely not amongst the nicer homes that had the privilege of bordering the park. So Hakyeon moved quickly, wanting to arrive by the time it was truly dark. He did not wake up this early for nothing.

The gentle woods gave way to larger open grass spaces, a soccer field, a jungle gym surrounded by sand. It was empty now, as twilight died, and Hakyeon expected nothing less. Sometimes, on the weekend, there’d be teenagers sneaking around the trees, but usually things were quiet. 

The houses were quiet too, endless streets of bright porch lights, golden windows with people moving beyond them. Even as they grew shorter, from two stories to one, the lots smaller, it was odd how uniformly human it all was. Crisp grey sidewalks and squares of green lawns, shadows in windows. 

The hunters seemed to have only one car, and it was parked in the driveway when Hakyeon arrived. Their home, too, had lights on, and there were voices, loud enough that Hakyeon could faintly hear them even from outside. Instead of trespassing on their property, which would give them a very specific idea as to his location, he flittered into the brown roof of their neighbors, which gave him a good view. 

Hakyeon moved carefully, lightly, not wanting to knock any shingles loose, and crouched on the edge of the roof before going still so he could listen.

It wasn’t the television put on blast; no, Hakyeon recognized Taekwoon’s voice, carrying even through the closed windows. 

“—why shouldn’t I?” Taekwoon was saying. “People are still _dying_.”

“We have enough on our plates right now,” Jaehwan replied. “What with the—” He cut off, and Hakyeon strained, wondering if he was missing something, but rather thinking Jaehwan had made some sort of gesture. 

“But you’ve taken care of that, haven’t you?” Taekwoon said, voice spiking in volume, and Hakyeon, who’d been listening hard, recoiled back with a wince. “No need to worry about it, not when Jaehwan is cutting deals with suckers.” 

“I didn’t make any fucking deals!” Jaehwan said, properly screaming, and there was the loud sound of something crashing. 

“Why not? You may as fucking well,” Taekwoon cried back. “You can handle fucking Hakyeon—” 

Hakyeon’s nostrils flared at being referred to as _fucking Hakyeon_.

“—I’m going to worry about these other suckers.” 

There was another crash, and then the sounds of stomping footsteps, multiple pairs. 

 

“Taekwoon, this is stupid,” Jaehwan’s voice said, and the sound of footsteps grew faster, nearer. 

Suddenly there was a creak as the front door opened, and like last night, a beam of golden light fell out over the grass. Taekwoon strode down the creaking porch steps, stomping out towards his car. Quick as a flash, Hakyeon pulled his phone out, texting a message to his children that the hunters were splitting up, and one of them needed to come here to sit on the house. Because, of course, Hakyeon was going to follow Taekwoon.

Jaehwan came out to stand on the porch steps, and shouted at Taekwoon’s back, “You’re being fucking stupid!” 

“As opposed to you being stupid?” Taekwoon shot back, half turning but not stopping. “Must make for a nice fucking change, for once.” 

Hongbin made a hissing noise, seemingly as a sound effect, and Jaehwan swore quite colorfully. Carefully, Hakyeon flittered down, so he was standing on the front porch, surveying the scene in front of him. Taekwoon was getting into the front seat of his modest little car, Jaehwan hovering on the porch steps, like he wasn’t sure if he should throw himself down on the driveway and stop Taekwoon going or not. Behind him, Hongbin hung back in the doorway.

At least there were no tears tonight. Taekwoon seemed simply— angry, whereas last night he’d seemed broken. He wondered if Taekwoon storming out and away from the others was going to be a routine. 

Hakyeon wasn’t going to complain about it, not when it got Taekwoon alone. 

“Ah,” Hongbin said, having noticed Hakyeon, and it made Jaehwan whirl around. He startled, slightly, when he caught sight of Hakyeon, making as if to step back inside, but Hakyeon wasn’t interested in him tonight.

“Don’t worry,” Hakyeon said cheerfully, hopping over the porch railing and onto the lawn, so he could stride after Taekwoon quickly. Didn’t want him getting away. “I’m going with Taekwoon.”

“Fucking—” Jaehwan said, stepping forward sharply, down the steps of the porch and onto the grass, holding out his hand. “You promised me you’d leave him alone,” he said lowly, pitching it so even Hongbin wouldn’t hear.

The car engine roared to life, and Hakyeon smiled back at Jaehwan. “I did, but only if you gave me the spell in return,” he said, sweet like honey. He could feel his fangs peeking out. “Will you give it to me now?”

Jaehwan’s hands curled into fists at his sides, the grass around him browning and wilting, which Hakyeon supposed was a negative. He let his grin widen for a moment and then flickered away, quickly yanking open the door to Taekwoon’s passenger side door and getting in.

Taekwoon jumped, giving a short, bitten off curse. “The hell— get _out_ ,” he half shrieked. He hunched over the steering wheel defensively, almost hissing. 

“No,” Hakyeon said simply, closing his door and settling back into the seat. It was a clean car, nowhere near new, but perfectly serviceable, Hakyeon rather thought, sniffing slightly. 

Taekwoon gaped at him, lips parted, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. It was probably quite incongruous. Hakyeon hadn’t been in a car in at least a few years. Vampires didn’t need them, usually.

Jaehwan was saying something outside, but it was muffled through the glass. It didn’t sound pleasant. Taekwoon turned his stare on Jaehwan, and his mouth snapped shut, expression hardening. 

“Fine,” Taekwoon snarled, shifting the car into reverse and hitting the gas so hard Hakyeon found himself wishing he’d put on a seatbelt, they rocketed backwards so fast. 

“Careful, kitten,” Hakyeon said laughingly, waving goodbye to Jaehwan and Hongbin as Taekwoon put the car into drive and sped them down the street. “You should put your seatbelt on.” 

 

Taekwoon did not listen to him. “Why are you here?” Taekwoon growled, both hands on the wheel, shoulders hunched up. 

“I told Jaehwan we’d be keeping watch on you lot,” Hakyeon said, squinting in disapproval as they ran a stop sign. There was no one around, but still. “I can’t very well let you go off to— wherever you’re going— alone.” 

Taekwoon’s heart was pounding, face flushed. It was from the fight, Hakyeon knew, but it made him feel quite warm nonetheless. “I’m going on patrol,” he bit out, and Hakyeon made a small inquisitive noise. Their speed was decreasing to something resembling normalcy. “There was an attack last night.”

“Ah,” Hakyeon said, and had to take care not to wince. That wasn’t going to warm any of the humans to Hakyeon at all. 

“It was a block away from where you almost killed Hongbin,” Taekwoon said, and now Hakyeon couldn’t help wincing. “But I suppose you don’t know anything about it.”

“I don’t,” Hakyeon said truthfully, and he jerked forward when Taekwoon braked suddenly, having decided to stop at a stop sign apparently. “You’re going to wear your brakes out.”

Taekwoon ignored that too. “So it’s all coincidence, that you attacked us right where all these other humans are being drained?” he asked, voice louder than Hakyeon was accustomed to. 

“No,” Hakyeon said, and saw Taekwoon stiffen. The car lurched as Taekwoon hit the gas again. Hakyeon noted the houses were growing sparse, replaced by local businesses as they headed downtown. “It isn’t coincidence. But I didn’t kill anyone. I was there looking for you— you _were_ the ones who killed that vampire, were you not?” 

“Yes,” Taekwoon said, teeth flashing. He had no fangs, but oh, he had claws. “And we would have killed this other one too, if you had done the world a favor and fallen on a stake a few centuries ago.” 

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Hakyeon said simply, and Taekwoon growled but didn’t reply. Taekwoon had too much anger in him, he couldn’t be the dagger’s edge he needed to be. He would always be a bit too sloppy, too irrational. He couldn’t be a true hunter, not with this level of personal hatred in him. 

Lord would have thought Hakyeon would’ve had his fill of hunters, and by all rights he should have— but perhaps he needed this level of transparency after— after last time. Taekwoon had no hidden cards, they were all laid out in plain sight. If nothing else, Hakyeon knew where he stood. 

“Why do you hate vampires so much?” Hakyeon asked, and maybe he should have led into it a bit more smoothly, but he wasn’t sure there was a way to get to that question easily. 

Taekwoon’s upper lip curled, and he took his eyes off the road for a second to shoot Hakyeon a scathing look. Hakyeon was surprised how easily he was able to interpret it. 

“Yes, I know, you’re human, and vampires eat humans,” Hakyeon said impatiently, waving his hand as if to brush that away. “There is innate animosity between our kinds, of course— but you have a certain disdain that I feel is normally unique to—” Hakyeon faltered. “Bad histories, we shall say.”

Taekwoon’s facial expression didn’t change from the glower that just seemed to perpetually grace his features, and he didn’t look at Hakyeon again, but Hakyeon saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel, saw his knuckles go pale. 

Hakyeon’s eyes traced over the soft curves of Taekwoon’s profile. “Where is your family, kitten?” he whispered. 

Again, Hakyeon found himself being jerked, this time as the car swerved suddenly and stopped, pulled up beside the curb. “Get out of my car,” Taekwoon said harshly. 

Hakyeon sighed. He should have expected that. “I guess that is my answer.”

Taekwoon— he was shaking, he was so angry. Hakyeon wasn’t afraid of him, not really, but it was still chilling, to see another creature so furious. “Jaehwan and Hongbin are my family,” Taekwoon spat.

Yes, Hakyeon knew that, a family forged for survival, clawing to breathe. But— “They’re not your blood.”

“Get _out_ of my _car_ , you bloodsucking parasite,” Taekwoon fairly shouted, taking one hand off the wheel to shove at Hakyeon’s shoulder, as if that would do anything. 

Hakyeon grabbed his wrist, firm enough so Taekwoon couldn’t pull away, but gentle enough to not leave marks. “I didn't hurt your family, Taekwoon. I can promise you that. I can,” Hakyeon said softly in counterpoint to Taekwoon’s rising volume. 

Taekwoon’s cheeks were so flushed, eyes sparkling as his chest heaved. He looked away from Hakyeon, but not before Hakyeon caught the flash of pain in his eyes. 

Slowly, as if he was trying not to spook a skittish animal, Hakyeon reached down and carefully shifted the gear stick into park. He didn’t want Taekwoon driving while they spoke of this, he wasn’t right for it. Then he braced his hand on the dashboard, shifting so he had a knee on the seat, half kneeling on it so he could lean forward. Glamour swelled up, instinctive, but Hakyeon reeled it back in. He didn’t want Taekwoon that way.

“Kitten,” Hakyeon whispered, “has it occurred to you I could maybe help you?”

Taekwoon stilled, in a strange mimicry of a vampire, but still he didn’t look at Hakyeon. “I don’t want your help.”

“Do you want revenge?” Hakyeon asked, taking shots in the dark because he knew some of them would hit. “Is that why you hunt?”

He expected Taekwoon to rise up, shout again, but instead his shoulders rounded, and he sighed. Hakyeon‘s shot had missed, apparently. 

“You don’t know anything,” Taekwoon whispered. His eyelashes fluttered as he glanced at Hakyeon. Their faces were very close, Hakyeon could feel his breath whispering against his skin. “You’ve killed in the past. Drained humans dry because— our lives are nothing, decades of living and for what? You to take it, so you can go on.”

How could Hakyeon explain, that he agreed, he did, and that was why he lived the way he did. He couldn’t help what he was— except he’d chosen this. He’d damned himself willingly. 

“I haven’t killed anyone in a very, very long time, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, deciding that was the next best thing. A flash of crimson flickered through his mind, a memory of bones snapping under his fingertips. He amended, “Not for blood, at least.”

“And somehow you think that makes it better?” Taekwoon asked. He tugged at his hand, which Hakyeon was still holding captive, and Hakyeon let him go. Taekwoon rubbed at his wrist, like he was trying to wipe away Hakyeon’s touch. “Even if it was centuries ago, and only even one person— would it matter to their parents? You stole someone’s child, someone’s sibling, someone’s—” He cut off, looking ahead of himself again, back to breathing heavily. 

Hakyeon finished for him in a whisper. “Someone’s lover?”

Taekwoon, still, didn’t rise to it. Another missed shot. “You don’t know anything,” he repeated. “You think if you figure me out, and deliver some vamp’s head on a platter for me, I’ll spread my legs for you? Hand Jaehwan over? Both? What are you _doing_?” 

_What indeed_ , Hakyeon thought, lips pursing. He sat back, settling into his seat once more. His skin felt oddly cold without Taekwoon’s warmth near him. “Just making conversation.” He could sense Taekwoon gaping at him slightly, and he ignored it in favor of reaching over and putting the car back into drive. “I’m not getting out— like I said, I have to keep a watch on you. So we can sit here all night or we can go hunt vampires.”

There was a long pause, wherein Hakyeon thought Taekwoon was going to argue. But, perhaps he was beginning to realize that butting heads with Hakyeon would only lead to aggravation, rather than him getting his way, because he pulled away from the curb eventually, the car lurching forward as Taekwoon stomped on the gas. 

Hakyeon let his mind wander, rather than running his mouth anymore. Taekwoon had lost someone, someone he held dear, at the hands of a vampire. A senseless death. _Had_ it been a lover? Hakyeon rather doubted it, Taekwoon seemed quite young, too young to have been married, and his attachment to Jaehwan suggested they had years upon years of history between them. A family member then, perhaps. A parent or sibling. 

Hakyeon would have to dig.

——

The ceramic mug had been easy to clean up, shattering in larger pieces than glass ever did. And the smaller slivers that were missed would be more inclined to crunch underfoot, rather than slice, so Hongbin wasn’t too bothered. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaehwan said softly, sitting at the table with a sigh.

Hongbin gave a one shouldered shrug. It had always been like this. “It’s fine— the mug wasn’t one of the nicer ones.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Jaehwan mumbled. He ran his hand through his hair, less fluffy and more oily. He hadn’t gotten a chance to shower yet tonight. Taekwoon had been raring to fight as soon as he’d woken up. At least the fucking sucker had gone with him when he’d stormed off. Hongbin didn’t think he could deal with the house wards pinging at him right now. “I think— I think we fucked up, with Taekwoon.”

The corners of Hongbin’s mouth tightened. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I don’t think he can keep living the way he has been, we should have— things should have changed, a long time ago.”

“Yes,” Jaehwan agreed, sighing again. “But I think we should have gone about it a little— more slowly.”

Hongbin went to the kitchen sink so he could wash the ceramic dust and residual coffee off his hands. He turned the water on low so he’d be heard over the sound of it hitting the basin. “The problem is Taekwoon would never take any sort of softer means to heart— he doesn’t do well with subtlety. He _needs_ to get whacked over the head with things. Even if he doesn’t like it.”

“I know,” Jaehwan said, as Hongbin ran his hands under the cool water. “But I do think we crossed a line. I— I forget, sometimes, that under the anger there’s a lot of pain. I expected him to be angry, but I think he’s more hurt.” 

Hongbin turned the water off, reaching for their dish-drying towel to wipe his hands off on, movements deliberately slow. He wanted to gather his thoughts so he could get them out properly. “Taekwoon—” he began, then stopped, frowning down at the towel. It was crusty. He sighed, putting it back on the counter. “He loves us, I think he thought— I think we all thought, things would be better, after we got away. But it couldn’t fix my wounds, any more than it could fix his. And then you got sick and— I think all Taekwoon has ever wanted was to have a happy family, a happy situation. The disappointment of it— you’re right, he covers the hurt with anger, he always has, because it’s always worked. But we’re all running on fumes at this point. Shit _has_ to change, Jaehwan.”

Hongbin turned, to see Jaehwan with his cheek propped up on his hand, face slightly distorted because of it. He looked miserable. “It has to change,” he agreed, the words slightly indistinct, “I’m just worried he’s going to break, instead of bending. Hating vamps, blaming them, has always given him something to hold onto, a purpose. I’m worried that without it he’s just going to— fall apart.”

“He might,” Hongbin said heavily, shoulders slumping. It had all gone so wrong. “But we won’t. I won’t. We’re not his parents, he can rely on us. I think he forgets it.”

Jaehwan moved his hand, scrubbing over his face with it. “We’re going to have to talk to him about it, aren’t we?” he asked, muffled from behind his fingers. “About— what happened. We never talk about it. He won’t stand for it.” 

“We might have to lock him in the basement again,” Hongbin said solemnly, and Jaehwan peered through his fingers to glare at him. “Shout it out through the door.”

“Not funny,” Jaehwan said, but Hongbin thought he could see a smile peeking out from under Jaehwan’s hand. “Should we—”

His mouth snapped shut, hand falling away from his face as he glanced up. Hongbin could only faintly feel it, a slight disturbance on the house wards, but Jaehwan was much more attuned to them. The feeling intensified, and Hongbin strode to the entranceway of the kitchen so he could peer through the living room, at the front window.

“Taekwoon isn’t back,” he said, because he saw no headlights shining through the curtains. Hongbin turned back to the kitchen, where Jaehwan had stood, the fingertips of one hand braced on the table. “Do you think Hakyeon came back without him?” 

Jaehwan shook his head, not so much in answer seemingly as in confusion. They both jumped, a little, when there was a _thump_ , and in unison they looked to the back door. Their porch was creaking under the weight of someone standing on it, and goosebumps rose on Hongbin’s arms. After a few moments, silence fell. Neither of them were fooled.

Jaehwan was taking deep breaths, and Hongbin hoped he kept it together, because he didn’t want to clean up any more broken dishware tonight. He motioned at Jaehwan to stay where he was, and went to the window over the sink, pressing his face near the glass so he could see out into the darkness. 

Even knowing something was out there didn’t stop the sick swooping of his stomach when he saw a figure sitting on the steps of their porch. The lines of the body said vampire, but the haircolor informed Hongbin it wasn’t Hakyeon. 

“It’s the fucker that got caught in the trap and almost ate me,” Hongbin said loudly, and the vampire turned, squinting. Hongbin got chills and pulled back.

“Hakyeon must have sent him here to watch us, while he’s trailing Taekwoon,” Jaehwan whispered, frowning. “Fucking hell.”

Hongbin agreed with that sentiment. He didn’t hate vampires with the same sort of fire Taekwoon did, but he still didn’t fucking like this. 

——

Taekwoon didn’t want to be in this car. He’d wanted to get away, have some time to get lost in the razor focus of a hunt— but of course the universe would grant him no peace. 

He shot a sour look at Hakyeon, who’d been blessedly silent for the last fifteen minutes. Perhaps he’d decided he’d done enough damage. The asshole didn’t see Taekwoon’s glare— after his game of twenty questions, he’d opted to roll down his window, and was currently half leaning out of it, arms crossed on the sill. Chilly air was pouring in through the open window, ruffling Hakyeon’s hair. The vampire was apparently impervious to the cold temperature, but Taekwoon’s fingers were icy, tingling. 

Taekwoon was too pissed to ask Hakyeon to roll his window up. He was too pissed to say anything, really. His mind was caught in a loop of Hakyeon’s words, but Taekwoon wasn’t allowing himself to focus on them, leaving them to rot at the back of his mind with everything else. They’d fade. Like everything else.

If it wasn’t for Hakyeon, Taekwoon would have arrived at his destination over ten minutes ago. But he hadn’t wanted to take Hakyeon nearby too many of their active runes on the way; it would fuck up their readings, so he took them on a more indirect route. As it was he was having to make a mental note of the runes they _had_ driven by, so he’d know that later when he checked the map and they were glowing bright blue, it wasn’t a lead. It was just Hakyeon. Fucking everything up. 

Taekwoon moved his foot, quickly hitting the brake hard, and was viciously satisfied when Hakyeon slid forward and its elbow hit the edge of the window sharply. Hakyeon made a small hurt noise, pulling himself back and rubbing at his elbow. “What was that for?” he asked, eyeing him reproachfully.

Taekwoon didn’t reply, he didn’t— he didn’t know why he was even engaging with this creature. He slowly eased off the road, parking neatly by the curb, and Hakyeon got the hint and rolled his window up. The recent attack site was a few blocks east, but there was a rune here, tucked beside a dumpster, that had been triggered. Taekwoon wanted to walk along the path the vampire had followed and find out what he could see. He cut the engine, stuffing his keys into his jacket pocket.

“Is this—” Hakyeon began, but Taekwoon opened his door and climbed out. He shut his door on Hakyeon’s words, already striding around the car and towards the slim alleyway lined with dumpsters. 

Taekwoon didn’t hear Hakyeon move, vampire as he— it— was, its footsteps were silent, but he heard the car door open and shut. “Lock it,” Taekwoon said without looking back at Hakyeon, eyes fixated on the graffiti wherein the rune was hidden. It was a small cat head, pink, but within it was their triggered rune. Behind him, he heard the car door open once more, the click of the lock being pushed in, and then the door shut again. He hadn’t really expected Hakyeon to listen to him. 

_Thank you_ , he thought without volition, and bit his tongue rather than speak it aloud. 

“This isn’t where the attack was,” Hakyeon said from somewhere behind him, near enough that Taekwoon was getting shivery. His body instinctively didn’t like having a vampire at its back. 

Taekwoon gave one last sweeping glance at the alleyway, nothing standing out one way or another, before he turned around to glare at Hakyeon. He hadn’t noticed in the car, but Hakyeon was wearing a soft looking grey sweater, too big on his slim frame. If he was trying to look small and vulnerable, he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Taekwoon.

“I thought you didn’t know about this attack?” Taekwoon asked, sharp and biting, ever suspicious. 

Hakyeon looked down, scuffing his boots on the pavement. “I can’t smell any blood,” he said, very softly, his tone suggesting he knew the words would piss Taekwoon off so he was treading carefully.

All Taekwoon could smell was dumpster, so he couldn’t speak on it one way or another. “The attack was a few blocks up,” he said simply, the words clipped. Without saying anything more, he began to quickly walk towards the next rune; it was on the side of a potted plant, sprayed on in clear glue. 

Hakyeon followed, Taekwoon couldn’t hear him— it, but he knew. The feeling of a vampire tailing him was unmistakable. 

“If the attack wasn’t here, then why did you stop here?” Hakyeon asked, voice pitched quietly. All the buildings here were darkened, businesses closed for the night, but there were a few residences, apartments, tucked away on second and third floors. It wouldn’t do for them to be heard, have someone peek out, and see a vampire. Taekwoon didn’t particularly give a shit if a VCF cruiser came by— but Hakyeon wouldn’t want that. 

Taekwoon passed a closed deli, squinting ahead of himself, already seeing the collection of potted plants outside a small hair salon. He didn’t want to divulge their rune system, not when he didn’t know what Hakyeon would do with the information. It wasn’t the best system anyway— the runes needed vamps to come pretty damn close, and they only seemed to do that when stalking prey. Taekwoon didn’t know why.

“Vampires don’t normally walk on the pavement like this,” Taekwoon said, lilting it so it was nearly a question. They were passing the potted plants now, and Taekwoon barely spared them a glance. He didn’t need to check every single one— he simply wanted to walk in the vampire’s shoes. 

From behind him, very near, Hakyeon said, “No, rooftops are safer.” 

Taekwoon blinked, stopping suddenly and looking upwards. Of course— he’d never thought of it, but it made sense. They’d always assumed vampires travelled underground, in the sewer systems— but flittering on rooftops was both more pleasant and probably less restricting. 

But they couldn’t get runes up on rooftops, that would be conspicuous to say the least. He scowled, staring upwards still. Maybe they could—

Suddenly Hakyeon was at his side, and Taekwoon flinched away, because their arms had almost brushed. “I wish you would go away,” Taekwoon snapped, holding his own upper arm reflexively. 

Hakyeon didn’t react to that, expression oddly neutral. “Would you rather I stayed at your home, with Hongbin and Jaehwan?”

The implication was almost taunting— Hakyeon clearly thought the idea would be reprehensible to Taekwoon, but after the previous night, Taekwoon didn’t much fucking care. Jaehwan and Hongbin would do what they wanted, regardless of if either Hakyeon or Taekwoon were there. If they thought they knew so damn much, he’d let them make their choices and swallow the results.

“It wouldn’t fucking matter much if you did, would it? Since even with me there, you and Jaehwan had a nice chat,” Taekwoon said coldly. He stepped away from Hakyeon, resumed walking, trying to turn his thoughts back to this hunt. Rooftops. He wondered if the VCF knew—

“I was surprised you weren’t out there with him, to be honest,” Hakyeon said, not letting it go, and Taekwoon took a deep breath, trying to shut him out but he _wouldn’t shut up_. “And you were so upset afterwards, why—”

They’d reached a street corner. Taekwoon stopped under the lamppost, the light sickly yellow, and whirled around, hands clenching into fists. He could feel blood coming to his cheeks, probably making them splotchy. He hated that this creature had seen him cry. “If you don’t shut up,” he spat, “I am going to start screaming, and when the VCF show up, I will point them in whichever direction you’ve fucking run.” 

Hakyeon was in the darkness, standing outside Taekwoon’s pool of light, but he could still see Hakyeon’s features, illuminated by the ambient glow. Maybe it was a trick of the dim light, but Hakyeon looked almost sad. “Taekwoon—” he began. It began. But it stopped, head whipping to the side, staring down the block. “I smell blood.” 

They were nearer to the attack site, so Taekwoon might not have thought much of it— but Hakyeon wasn’t looking towards the east, where the attack had happened. He was staring down the street that headed south. 

Taekwoon felt cold. “Lead,” he said shortly, and Hakyeon moved, running at a human sort of pace down the block. Taekwoon followed— even though Hakyeon wasn’t going vampire speed, he was still fast, and Taekwoon struggled to keep up as he darted through the shadows. There was new adrenaline running through him, and despite the cold air he was beginning to sweat. 

When Hakyeon began to slow, he held his arm out, as if to indicate Taekwoon shouldn’t pass him, should let him go first. He’d hunched forward, stepping carefully, nose in the air. It was almost catlike. There were several alleyways ahead, tucked between restaurants and closed drug stores. 

Quite suddenly, Hakyeon was gone, flittered away, and Taekwoon’s heart skipped a beat. He whirled, searching, but the street was quiet and empty, not even a shadow moving. It instinctively caused panic to spike in him— knowing Hakyeon was behind him was one thing, but not knowing where he was lurking at all was another matter entirely. His earring was warm, so Hakyeon hadn’t gone far, and the shivers skittering over his skin were enough of a reminder even without it.

And then, just as quickly, Hakyeon was back, a specter of the night standing not five feet away. His return did nothing to quell the panic racing through Taekwoon’s veins. 

“Here,” Hakyeon said softly, for once utterly avoiding Taekwoon’s eyes. He turned, leading the way across the street, to a wider alleyway that cut all the way through the block. 

There was reflected light spilling down into the alleyway, but it was still very dim, to Taekwoon’s eyes. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a flashlight. Normally, he didn’t use it, because it spoiled a vampire’s cover— but he knew there was no vampire here, aside from Hakyeon. Nothing to spook. 

Taekwoon clicked the flashlight on, shining it down into the alleyway, and the beam of light immediately caught color amidst the grey of the concrete and buildings— blue. Blue and white. A striped sweater. 

He could feel all the color drain from his face, the lightheadedness coming on so fast he felt nauseated. “No,” he whispered, and found himself running. The person was fairly small, dark hair spilling out richly over the pavement. He skidded to a stop on the other side of them— her— crouching down to see.

There was blood staining the neck of her sweater, and her hair had fallen over her face, but Taekwoon could see her glassy eyes, make out the slope of her nose, the shape of her mouth. It wasn’t her. The girl from the coffee shop. It wasn’t her. 

Relief washed through him, and on its heels came guilt, and disgust at himself. This girl was dead. She was dead, and maybe twenty years old— it didn’t matter if he’d known her or not.

He exhaled shakily, getting back to his feet, head bowed. Whatever vampire had done this to her was gone. There was nothing he could do for her, and he didn’t want to touch the body, knew there would be a forensic team combing over her soon enough. 

Her glassy eyes stared up at the sky, moonlight reflected off their smooth surface. Taekwoon looked away, eyes flicking up. Hakyeon was standing across from him, hands loosely at its sides, face downturned. Its expression was flat. Nothing there.

“Not your first dead body, is it?” Taekwoon asked, feeling his own upper lip curl in a snarl over his teeth. Hakyeon flinched.

Taekwoon clicked his flashlight off, so he wouldn’t have to look at the vampire anymore. In the dimness that followed, he carefully stepped out of the alleyway, heading back to his car, and even though the silence behind him wasn’t anything new, he knew, somehow, that this time, Hakyeon wasn’t following him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, those of you who follow me on twitter probably noticed this chapter is shorter than i said it was going to be. That is because in the end it got _too_ long, so I decided to split it up into two chapters.
> 
> Thank you to Rara for helping me so much with this chapter, writing it (and the subsequent one) would have been impossible without you :ccc

Hakyeon leaned against Taekwoon’s car, the handle of the driver’s door digging into his hip. He had his hands clasped in front of himself, not breathing as he listened to the night. There was the faint sound of critters in the darkness, tiny paws on pavement, but Taekwoon was by far the loudest thing, his heartbeat like a drum. Hakyeon could hear him a few blocks away, rapidly approaching, even if he couldn’t yet see him. There was no sign or sound of the vampire that had killed that girl, but Hakyeon was still glad for Taekwoon’s relative loudness. It let Hakyeon know he was alright. 

Hakyeon closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself. He had been a vampire for over three hundred years, had seen many things. In that time, he had always tried his damndest to be as just of a creature as one of his kind could be. But he had to admit, he had grown desensitized to death, especially to the death of humans. It wasn’t that he meant to be callous, it was just— they were so fragile. He could not, _could not_ , mourn every human. There was middle ground to be had though, and somewhere along the way he had left it. 

He didn’t see himself as evil, never had, for he knew his own heart and mind. But standing in that alleyway, Taekwoon‘s stare stripping him down to his bones as that girl’s body lay between them— Hakyeon had finally been able to see why Taekwoon saw him as a monster. And in truth, he had never felt more like one.

Hakyeon let his eyes flutter open once more when the sound of Taekwoon’s footsteps halted. Taekwoon had turned onto the block and stopped, staring at Hakyeon leaning against his car, waiting. Even from this far, Hakyeon could tell he was still riled. Perhaps he’d thought Hakyeon had truly gone, but Hakyeon had simply rather thought trailing after him might make him more edgy. Better to wait for him by the car, give him a few minutes to gather himself. 

It was a plan that did not seem to have completely worked. Taekwoon resumed walking, hands fisted at his sides and eyes lowered so he wouldn’t have to look at Hakyeon. When he was nearer, Hakyeon could see there was color high on his cheeks, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. Hakyeon wanted to taste it, and his fangs slipped out a little, before he reigned himself back in with a snap. Now was not the time. Now could not be a worse time. 

Taekwoon stepped off the curb, keys in hand. “Move,” he said gruffly, head still ducked down. 

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, not moving at all. Instead he putting his hand on the window, holding it shut even as Taekwoon tried to reach under him to grab at the door handle. “Look at me, please.”

“Why, so you can glamour me into forgetting this?” Taekwoon asked sharply. When Hakyeon didn’t budge, Taekwoon pulled back, scowling deeply. “I hate you. I hate your kind.” 

“I did not do this,” Hakyeon said, wanting Taekwoon to understand. “It wasn’t me, Taekwoon.” _So please don't blame me for it. Don’t blame me for any of this._

Taekwoon, for a moment, simply breathed harshly through his nose, his lips pressed into a line. Then he shook his head. “I could have saved her, if I hadn’t been babysitting you,” he murmured. He looked up then, and his gaze was so full of anger it felt like it was scraping at Hakyeon’s skin. “I could have gotten here in time.”

Hakyeon swallowed. “Or gotten yourself killed.” Fuck. Taekwoon was right though— the kill had been very fresh. Hakyeon had been able to still smell the faint, cloying sweetness of vampire on the girl. 

“Like you care,” Taekwoon said, upper lip curling. “Or, well, I suppose me dying on your watch would put a dampener of your deal with Jaehwan, as well as your plan to fuck me.” 

“I did not make a deal with Jaehwan,” Hakyeon said, fighting to keep his voice level. It wasn’t exactly a lie. The deal was drawn, just not yet sealed. “And my plan is not to fuck you.” 

Taekwoon stared at him, but not into his eyes; he was glaring more at Hakyeon’s nose. He opened his mouth, then closed it, before shaking his head and opening it again. “You know— I don’t want to know. I don’t care. You’re filth and I don’t want anything to do with you.” 

He stepped back, striding quickly around the front of the car, and Hakyeon realised he was going to go in through the passenger side door. Hakyeon stuttered forward a step, not sure if he should try and stop him. Taekwoon was too angry to be reasoned with, but something about this situation was leaving Hakyeon unsettled. Perhaps it was simply because he had finally seen himself through Taekwoon’s gaze, and didn’t like the image.

“This wasn’t my fault,” Hakyeon said, a touch on the loud side, and Taekwoon looked a little startled, flinching in his quest to fumble the key into the passenger door. “I did not kill that girl.”

“And?” Taekwoon burst out. He stared at Hakyeon over the top of the car. “Are you going to do anything about her death? You’re so old, I know you could track the other vampire down, put a stop to these killings. But will you? No.” He was snarling by the end of it, teeth flashing in the low light, and with each word Hakyeon’s stomach sank further.

“I can’t,” Hakyeon whispered, barely audible. Taekwoon sneered, then yanked the passenger door open. “There are laws, Taekwoon.”

Taekwoon had been ducking to get into the car, and he paused, for a beat, before getting in the rest of the way and slamming the door shut behind him. The car rocked against Hakyeon’s palm with Taekwoon’s weight as the hunter climbed over the gearstick and into the driver’s seat. Hakyeon sighed, letting his hand fall away from the window as the car started, taking a step back. 

To his surprise, the window rolled down, just enough to show Taekwoon’s pretty catlike eyes blinking up at him. “Laws?” Taekwoon asked, muffled under the sound of the car engine. His gaze was suspicious. “Vampire laws?”

“Yes,” Hakyeon said, tamping down the warmth suddenly blooming in his chest at the loss of hostility in Taekwoon’s tone. He’d piqued Taekwoon’s curiosity— which was possibly going to be his best method of conversation in the future. Taekwoon seemed to want to learn. Most humans had many questions about vampires, and Hakyeon could definitely give him answers. “We have a government of sorts, but you know that.” 

The window rolled down more, so Hakyeon could see the tightness at the corners of Taekwoon’s mouth. “And there are laws against vampires killing one another?”

“If there is no just cause,” Hakyeon said softly, leaning forward so Taekwoon could better hear him, “yes.”

Taekwoon’s mouth twisted, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “And I suppose killing a random human is not just cause.”

Hakyeon rested his hands tentatively on the top edge of the window. If Taekwoon suddenly slammed the car into reverse, he’d run right over Hakyeon’s toes, but it was a risk Hakyeon was willing to take. “No, it isn’t,” he said, knowing it wasn’t a pretty thing to hear.

Taekwoon made a soft noise, it was almost a laugh, but the smile that curved his lips was anything but amused. “We’re so worthless to your kind,” he murmured, seemingly to himself, and looked away from Hakyeon, staring out the front window instead. 

“Not to me,” Hakyeon said. In the low light, Taekwoon’s silver earring glinted. Taekwoon was shaking slightly, but with which emotion, Hakyeon didn’t know. “I don’t make the laws. I just have to follow them.”

“You can’t tell me we’re not worthless to you, not when you were going to kill Hongbin just to make a point to me, to others like me,” Taekwoon said softly. “And that would have been acceptable to your government.”

Hakyeon bit his bottom lip for a moment. He sensed this conversation was over. “I was wrong,” Hakyeon murmured. “I’ve— I try, Taekwoon, as I said. To be the right kind of vampire. But you’re right, I’ve slipped up in places. It— it was cruel of me, and I knew it was but when you’re surrounded by such things for so long—”

“I don’t want your excuses,” Taekwoon said abruptly, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. He reached down to the gear stick, shifting the car into drive.

“Then take my apology,” Hakyeon said, stepping back as the car pulled away from the curb. “I’m sorry, Taekwoon.”

Taekwoon laughed, and it was an awful sound, devoid of any joy. “You must really want to make me into your personal feeder, you’re trying so hard,” he said, and Hakyeon didn’t get a chance to reply, because Taekwoon slammed his foot onto the pedal and the car shot off into the darkness. Hakyeon stood in the middle of the road, watching Taekwoon’s red tail lights recede. 

“I just don’t want you to think I’m a monster,” Hakyeon whispered. He did want Taekwoon, in his bed, at his feet, but he also, more than that, simply wanted to change his mind. Not necessarily about all vampires per se, but about himself. Wanted to teach him the world wasn’t black and white, it had greys, nuances Taekwoon was utterly overlooking. 

Hakyeon wanted to be respected, maybe even feared, but he didn’t want to be a nightmare for true. That was not what he was. 

In the distance, there was the faint sound of a siren. It was possibly the VCF, possibly the ordinary police, and maybe not even coming for the dead body a few blocks away. Either way, Hakyeon leapt out of the road, flittering up onto the nearest rooftop. He would not follow Taekwoon’s car on the streets, would take a more direct route back to the hunters’ house. If one of his children wasn’t there keeping watch he’d have both their heads on a plate when he went home later. 

He raced through the night, jumping from roof to roof with barely a whisper of sound as he landed each time. The stars above him gleamed, and he revelled in the strength of his own body, inhaling large gulps of the cool night air even though he did not need to. 

The streets were quiet, and Hakyeon did find himself wondering where that vampire had gone. He could not kill the creature, but he could, perhaps, throw his weight around a bit and chase it off on the grounds of this being his territory. There were potential issues with that, though, not the least of which being that the feeder house was going to inevitably bring more vampires passing through. Hakyeon could not afford to chase off every vampire that stayed a little too long in the area. Not when Kyungsoo wanted their money, anyway. 

He arrived back to the hunters’ house well before Taekwoon, who for all Hakyeon knew was doing laps around the block in an attempt to calm himself down. He should maybe not let Taekwoon go off like this, but he knew he would come home before long. He had nowhere else to go. 

There were lights on in the house still, while most of the other houses on the block had gone dark. Hakyeon landed on their roof, head on a swivel as he scanned the skyline of the roofs. Neither of his children were in sight, at least, and Hakyeon tipped his head back and scented the air. It was faint, but he could smell Wonshik.

“Wonshik,” Hakyeon said, not calling out, but then he didn’t need to, because his voice would carry well enough to a vampire’s ears. Sure enough, in a flicker, Wonshik was there, standing a bit down the slope of the roof and staring up at Hakyeon. “Where were you?”

“The back porch,” Wonshik said, picking his way up to the crest of the roof so he could sit on it, long legs sprawled out in front of himself. “I figured there was no point in hiding.”

Hakyeon moved so he was sitting beside Wonshik, hands bracing on the rough tiles beneath them. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Nothing exciting,” Wonshik said with a half shrug. “The pretty one wants his phone back.”

Hakyeon’s eyebrow arched, brain not running on the right track apparently. He felt so distracted. “What?”

“His phone, you apparently have it.” Wonshik rubbed his hand through the hair at the back of his skull, scratching in that way he did when he was thoughtful. “He kept popping out to tell me to fuck off. And that he wants his phone back. And that he thinks my hair is stupid.” 

Hakyeon blinked, thinking back. Yes, the night he’d first met the hunters — if one could call it a meeting — Hongbin had dropped his phone on the pavement. Hakyeon had picked it up and all but forgotten about it. Not exactly high on his list of priorities. 

“He is a very angry thing,” Wonshik continued, in that soft, unintrusive way he had. “You know?”

Hakyeon sighed. “Yes, he and Taekwoon both.”

Wonshik glanced down at the driveway, tellingly empty, and then back at Hakyeon. “You left him? Where did you two go?”

“Vampire hunting,” Hakyeon said, grinning without any amusement, and Wonshik snorted softly. “We found a body, he is— upset.” Wonshik shrugged again, as if to say, _What can you do?_

Hakyeon paused then, biting his lip. Wonshik was his first child, not much younger than he himself was. They shared many ideals, many thoughts, deeply in tune in mentalities, if not personalities. 

“Wonshik,” Hakyeon said slowly, and Wonshik cocked an eyebrow at him, to indicate he was listening, “do you think we’ve grown flippant about human life?”

Wonshik blinked, slowly, like a cat. “Yes,” he said. “Not in a terrible way— but we can’t afford to place high value on every human’s life, not when so many of our kind don’t. Getting upset over every human’s unrightful death would be emotional suicide.” 

“But—” Hakyeon said, huffing it out, “I mean— it’s more like— when Kyungsoo ordered me to cripple this hunting unit, to kill one of them— I didn’t hesitate, no part of me recoiled. And once upon a time I— I would have obeyed, but it would have been with some reluctance if nothing else. I felt none of it this time. His life was nothing to me.”

Wonshik looked away from him, up at the stars shining as vibrantly as the sun to their eyes. “He is a hunter,” he said softly. “Killing hunters is never exactly sorrowful for us. Nor do I think it should be.”

“Yes, I said that too, before, and maybe it is so,” Hakyeon said, looking down at his own hands in his lap, instead of the bright sky. “But does that in turn mean it is right for us to relish in the kill? They are just trying to live, as we are. Their lives are as vibrant as our own. I am by no means saying— I don’t know what I am saying.” He laughed, shortly. 

“Killing must happen, it is a fact of being what we are,” Wonshik said. “But yes, there is a difference between killing humans as a necessity, while still acknowledging the weight of their lives, versus treating them as nothing more than sheeps for slaughter. I suppose even hunters deserve respect.”

Hakyeon’s skin looked silver in the moonlight. Wonshik was better with words than he was. “I forgot it,” Hakyeon said softly. “I didn’t— he was nothing to me. If I’d succeeded in killing him, it would have been cruel, I was treating him as a creature with no thought, and no worth. As if his life was a game.” 

“I think it is impossible for us to truly retain a grasp on the realities of mortality, on what it means to be so temporary,” Wonshik said softly, glancing at Hakyeon once more. “Do not be angry at yourself Hakyeon, it is a hard line to walk. And whether you give weight to a kill or not— in the end they are still dead.”

Hakyeon laughed again, and this time there was more genuine amusement in the sound. “Yes, that is true,” he said, smile still lingering. Wonshik smiled softly back at him. “I am just— just—”

“Seeing through his eyes,” Wonshik finished for him, the side of his face suddenly illuminated by headlights. Hakyeon turned to look behind them, saw Taekwoon had returned, parking his little car neatly in the driveway. 

“Vampires killed someone he loved,” Hakyeon said softly, watching as Taekwoon climbed out of the car, slamming the door none-too-gently behind himself. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Wonshik turn to him in surprise. “He did not say it in so many words, but it is the obvious reasoning. His anger runs too deep to be anything but personal.” 

Wonshik accepted that, humming in thought. Taekwoon did not look up at them, disappearing beneath the porch’s coverings. A moment later the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the darkness. Safe. All three of the humans back where they belonged. 

“Hakyeon,” Wonshik said gently, and Hakyeon closed his eyes, already knowing what was coming. “Have you considered this is not—”

“Yes,” Hakyeon broke in. “Yes. I have. But you should know me well enough by now.”

“I do, and that is why I am advising caution,” Wonshik said simply. “You are already too attached. But— you can only change so much, Hakyeon. Yes, moderate your behavior if you must, but you are not the evil he sees, and you cannot change being vampire. It might never be enough for him.”

Hakyeon did not look at him. He stared down at the car, with its headlights gone dark. There were the faint sounds of voices floating up from the house. 

“I want him, Wonshik,” Hakyeon whispered. He hated how defensive he felt. “I cannot change what I am, but I think I can change his mind.”

He could feel Wonshik staring at him. “And if you cannot?”

Hakyeon thought of Taekwoon’s bright eyes, of tear tracks shining on his cheeks. “Well,” he said softly, “I suppose I just have to hope I— I was able to make some kind of impact on his outlook.” 

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” Wonshik sighed. “Are we just going to pretend this has nothing to do with Jungsu?”

“Yes,” Hakyeon said. The word was bitten out sharply. “Go home, Wonshik. I am staying here til dawn.” 

Wonshik made a small noise which sounded like disappointment, but he got to his feet nonetheless. He knew arguing was pointless. “Stay safe,” he murmured, and then he was gone.

Hakyeon slumped, a headache creeping around the fringes of his mind. He did not know what he was doing anymore.

For a moment, Hakyeon wondered at their differences, at how angry Taekwoon was over the loss of someone he loved at the hands of vampires, when Hakyeon was not nearly so bitter over the loss of a loved one to hunters. But, he supposed, their cases weren’t the same. Faceless monsters in the dark had stolen Taekwoon’s loved one, loved ones, Hakyeon did not yet know— but Hakyeon had ended his own. The bitter tang of betrayal still sat like ashes in his mouth. 

And Taekwoon— he did not seem to love easily. Not like Hakyeon did. So the loss of one, or more, of his loves would surely hit harder. 

Hakyeon wondered if he’d be able to claw his way back from almost killing Hongbin, redeem himself in Taekwoon’s eyes. It did not look likely, not unless he began delivering vampire heads on platters. And he could do many things, but that was not one. His own kind would see him staked for it. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he shook his head to clear it before pulling his phone out. It was a message from Kyungsoo, and it read simply, _Tomorrow night you will visit me_.

“Fuck,” Hakyeon muttered to himself. His maker would want a status update, and he did not have much of one to give. Yes, he had backed Jaehwan into a corner, they were on the precipice of an agreement— but Hakyeon did not truly want to take it. Not if it meant giving up his chance with Taekwoon. And he knew that would not go over swimmingly with his maker. Hakyeon wanted the spell, yes, but— well. He supposed, as the humans said, he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. 

If Taekwoon fell for him, perhaps he would give up the spell of his own accord. The thought made Hakyeon laugh, because of how ridiculous it was. The sound echoed back to him, and a cool breeze plucked at his clothes, his hair. The sensation did not bother him, no matter how chilled it grew, he would not feel it as a human did. Donning oversized sweaters was all for show. Taekwoon seemed to like small and delicate things, if Jaehwan was anything to go by. 

Hakyeon would have him. He _would_. It was just a matter of patience, and playing his cards right. Already Taekwoon was bending, just slightly. Hakyeon would sink into his cracks and take him apart. 

——

It was occurring to Hongbin that Taekwoon was impossible. Stubborn as a mule and as unmovable as a boulder. He’d always known, but it had never been such a problem before. 

When Taekwoon had walked in the door he’d been as pissed off as when he’d left, which hadn’t been what either Jaehwan or Hongbin were hoping for. In fact, he was possibly _more_ agitated than when he’d stormed off in the first place, but whether that was due to Hakyeon, or the dead body they’d apparently found, Hongbin didn’t know. 

“Taekwoon,” Jaehwan sighed out, tone already laced with defeat. Taekwoon had said _There’s been another attack_ like it was the closing line in an argument, everything about his body language closed off. 

“Don’t,” was all Taekwoon said in reply. He pushed past them, further into the house so he could grab their canvas map of the city off the coffee table. 

Jaehwan looked at Hongbin, his full lips pressed into a line, frustration heavy in his gaze. Hongbin inhaled deeply. “Taekwoon,” he said, sharp where Jaehwan was soft. “We need to talk about this.”

Taekwoon was holding the map open between his hands, the spellwork lit up with blue lights, making Taekwoon’s face look washed out and cold. The corners of his mouth tightened, but he didn’t look up at them. “What is there to talk about?”

“You,” Hongbin said simply. “You can’t be going off on your own like this.”

Taekwoon looked at him then, flat and blank. “You didn’t want to come.”

“Because—” Hongbin made a frustrated sound and gestured at the roof, where they could all sense at least one of their new vampire guardians lurking. 

But all Taekwoon did in reply to that was shrug. “That’s your problem.”

Hongbin felt his temper flaring up, scowl sitting heavy on his brow. Jaehwan noticed and cut in again, voice gentler, more in control. “Taekwoon,” he said, somewhat placating and it grated on Hongbin, “I’ve always agreed with hunting vamps, because it is the right thing to do, but only so long as we’re a _team_ , Taekwoon. You can’t do it on your own. it’s too dangerous, and right now with everything else that is happening—”

Taekwoon, abruptly, rolled the map back up, the little lights spattered across the fabric flickering out. “We had this conversation earlier,” he said, a note of finality in his voice.

“No,” Jaehwan said, watching at Taekwoon tossed the map back down on the coffee table, “we started to have it, before you ran out on us.”

The vague accusation there made Taekwoon frown, gaze growing sharp, and he shook his head. “We _had it_ ,” he said. “It’s over. I can’t stop hunting. People are still dying.”

“I know, I _know_ ,” Jaehwan said, holding his hands up a little, motioning for Taekwoon to stay, because he looked like he was about to run out again. “And I know you want to save them, I know you want to prevent— what happened to you happening to anyone else—”

Hongbin could almost physically see the shutters come down over Taekwoon’s face. “Jaehwan.”

Jaehwan stuttered to a stop, unnerved, and Hongbin stepped in again. “He’s right. I’m all for killing suckers. but we have to do it as a unit— it has to be clean,” he said. “You’ve always brought more emotion into it than you should have, and that was fine, because we were still neat about it. But you’re spiralling, we’ve been slipping, and all of us need to stop and take stock.”

Taekwoon made a sweeping motion with his hand, voice raising. “The vampires aren’t stopping!”

“Taekwoon,” Jaehwan said. There was desperation beginning to creep into his tone, and Hongbin knew it well. They’d already lost this fight, but they had to try anyway. “Saving people is important to you, I know it is, but—”

“We need to stop pretending,” Hongbin said harshly, figuring they had nothing to lose by going right for the jugular. “This has never been about saving people, not totally. It’s always been about us, about anger, in my case, and revenge, in yours.”

He was satisfied to see Taekwoon’s pale cheeks turn blotchy red. Taekwoon, for a moment, was incoherent, but he managed to spit out, “It has nothing to do with—”

“It has everything to do with it, Taekwoon, don’t even give me that,” Hongbin said, moving in, trying to get him in a corner, so he would have to stop making denials and finally _look_ at himself.

“It’s about making the world right,” Taekwoon countered, voice going gratingly loud, “about getting rid of monsters so we can have peace.”

“Peace, yes,” Hongbin said, laughing a little without humor, “the peace that was taken from you. Maybe you’ve never thought about it in such explicit terms, Taek, but hunting for you has always been about avenging the life vampires stole from you, your brother’s and your own, and you need to stop lying to yourself about it.”

Taekwoon looked like Hongbin had hit him, and his chest heaved, hands clenched at his sides. There was still color painted high on his cheeks, angry reds. Taekwoon opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I— I don’t want to deal with this right now,” he muttered, looking away all of a sudden and stepping quickly into the hallway.

 _No_ , Hongbin thought, following on Taekwoon’s heels. “You _never_ want to deal with it,” Hongbin fairly shouted at Taekwoon’s retreating back, “and we’ve never pushed you about it— because you’ve always been able to keep your fucking head. But you’re losing it now.”

Taekwoon turned when he was in the doorway of his own bedroom, hand on the edge of the door and ready to slam it in Hongbin’s face. “I am not losing it,” he said, gritting each word out. 

When Taekwoon went to close the door, thus ending the conversation, Hongbin wedged his foot against the frame, preventing the door from being able to shut fully. “The notion of not being able to hunt, even for a little while, of not being able to assuage your pain by killing vamps— it has you going fucking nuts,” Hongbin said, a little out of breath because Taekwoon was trying to push him back, out of the way. “You’ve been using this as a coping mechanism for far too long.”

Hongbin almost lost his balance when the door suddenly went flying open again. “And you haven’t been as well?” Taekwoon shouted, right in Hongbin’s face. “You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

“Not in the same way,” Hongbin said with a grim smile. He didn’t match Taekwoon in volume, but his words were no less intense for it. “If it wasn’t vamps, I could kill demons, or maybe take up boxing. Shooting on ranges. I just need to get the anger _out_ somehow. But you— it’s personal for you, it always has been. And we’ve always known, even if none of us has said it.”

They were both breathing hard, and for a moment they just stared at one another.

“You’re right, it always has been,” Taekwoon finally said, voice low, “so why are you bitching about it now?”

“Because,” Hongbin said, holding onto his patience by the skin of his teeth, “it was never a problem until now. You need to step back. You need to evaluate yourself.”

Taekwoon just stared down at him, brow hitched, and Hongbin could almost physically see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes. If they could just get Taekwoon to stop and even begin to try and piece through the mess of everything, Hongbin knew he’d come around. Getting Taekwoon to even try was the hard part, but maybe—

Taekwoon’s lips parted. “Fuck you,” he said softly, with no real malice, and the door shut in Hongbin’s face before he could move to block it again.

——

Sanghyuk had perfect vision as a vampire. But staring down at tiny faded text night after night was making even his eyesight go fuzzy. 

There was nothing left to even go through— it wasn’t time for absorption anymore, it was time for critical thought. None of the spells in these books had ever worked, so it was time for Sanghyuk to cross reference the things that _almost_ worked, and see if he could catch onto something. He’d begun to do just that, making untidy notes in a spiral-bound notebook that had a pink unicorn on the cover.

The problem was there didn’t seem to be a lot of correlation between many of these attempts at the spells. Different spellwork ingredients, different Anchors, different Circles. And as a vampire, he couldn’t very well test any theories he did come up with. Magic could not live in vampires. 

From his perch on the couch, he heard Wonshik come in the front door, and he gladly tossed his pen down on the page he’d been scrawling on. Any excuse to not stare at this for five minutes was a good one. 

Wonshik came into the living room, hair a little askew. He’d tossed on a simple graphic tee and some long denim shorts, not caring apparently about the seasons changing. He looked ridiculous. “Hey, Sanghyuk,” Wonshik said, cracking a wide yawn at the tail end of Sanghyuk’s name.

Sanghyuk grinned at him. “Long night?” he asked pleasantly.

“I just don’t do well getting up so early,” Wonshik said, with a glare. “As you well know.”

“Hakyeon had an emergency,” Sanghyuk said, mock-surprised. “And one of us had to go— it isn’t my fault you suck at rock, paper, scissors.”

Wonshik’s lips pursed, and he sniffed. “Well, tomorrow night it’s your turn.” 

“Fine,” Sanghyuk said, glancing down at his work before shaking his head. He’d get back to it later, right now he needed a breather. He stood and stretched, just to tower over Wonshik. “I might try and get the sorcerer alone. See if anything I’ve gathered hits a nerve.”

“Good luck,” Wonshik said, and the tone of his voice was unusually bitter. That wasn’t like Wonshik, and Sanghyuk glanced at him in question once he’d straightened from his stretch. “They’re hostile and closed off, is all. I’m just— I don’t have hope.”

Sanghyuk blinked. “That is unusually pessimistic of you,” he said, tilting his head. He could read on Wonshik’s face something was preoccupying him. “What is it?”

Wonshik didn’t look at him, staring at the far wall as he gnawed at his bottom lip. Finally he sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m worried for Hakyeon.”

That wasn’t what Sanghyuk had been expecting, and he frowned. Hakyeon was the pillar of their lives, he was strong and smart and diplomatic, and he’d always been perfectly capable of handling anything life threw at him. “Why?”

Wonshik, in typical Wonshik fashion, seemed to be able to read Sanghyuk’s mind. He spoke like he was trying to persuade Sanghyuk of something, rather that simply voicing his own thoughts. “I just think he is losing sight of the bigger picture, and already too emotionally invested in this hunter,” he said slowly, carefully. “He messaged us to babysit the sorcerer, while he trailed the hunter out— well, hunting. Which is not the priority.”

No, it wasn’t, but he didn’t see the harm in it. They could watch after the sorcerer just as well as Hakyeon could. So long as their bases were covered it didn’t much matter. “Maybe the hunter shouldn’t be his higher concern,” Sanghyuk said, “but he can be a bit obsessive, you know he can. More than that— it has been a long while, Wonshik, since he has been more than simply physically interested in anyone.” It was time, Sanghyuk rather thought, for Hakyeon to begin making connections again. Sanghyuk wasn’t going to stop him. 

Wonshik stared at him, flatly, like he thought Sanghyuk was missing a large chunk of his brains. It made Sanghyuk want to kick him. “Think about it, Sanghyuk,” Wonshik said, and Sanghyuk huffed because he _was_ thinking. “The sorcerer is a threat, one we will have to nullify one way or another— and this hunter seems to care for him.”

That would put a dampener on many things, if it happened. But Sanghyuk didn’t think it would. “I think we can collar the sorcerer. They’re usually more morally flexible.” 

“Usually,” Wonshik echoed, and Sanghyuk sighed. “Even if we do, or if he dies before we get the chance to do anything— they’re just so hostile, Sanghyuk. And I can already see the poison of the hunter’s hatred wearing on Hakyeon. I think Hakyeon forgets that we all know our own minds, but others will see what they want to see. I just feel like— he knows what happened with Jungsu wasn’t really his fault, but he still wonders.” Sanghyuk felt his mouth twist at the mention of the name, so rarely spoken. “And I worry he is carrying that here, trying to prove something to a hunter, where he failed before.”

It wasn’t the same. “He wasn’t trying before,” Sanghyuk argued, defensive for Hakyeon even though he didn’t need to be in present company. “He didn’t _know_.”

“No, he didn't— but that is just it,” Wonshik said, frustration lacing his tone as he laid out something that to him was clearly obvious. “He was himself, with Jungsu, and in the end Jungsu still saw him as a monster.”

“He isn’t a monster, though,” Sanghyuk said. It had been a flaw in Jungsu, not Hakyeon, as far as Sanghyuk was concerned.

Wonshik, surprisingly, smiled. “We’re all monsters, Sanghyuk,” he said, no humor in the words. “Just in different ways.”

Sanghyuk disagreed. He didn’t like to think of themselves that way. “I think you may be overthinking this, a bit,” he muttered, looking away from Wonshik. “I can imagine Hakyeon probably likes Taekwoon’s transparency. Can’t hide a dagger behind your back when you’ve got one in each hand in plain sight. But I feel like it ends there.”

Were this anyone else, they probably would have treated this as an argument, gone back and forth. But Wonshik just shrugged. “Maybe it does,” he said amiably. “I do have a tendency to dissect things a bit too much. Regardless— I am worried for him. Falling for a hunter so set in their views will only end in heartache.” That, Sanghyuk could agree on, but he also knew Hakyeon was powerfully persuasive when he wanted to be. So they would simply have to wait and see. “And you?”

The question caught Sanghyuk off guard, and he glanced at Wonshik in a snap. “Me?”

“The sorcerer,” Wonshik said with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t play dumb.”

Sanghyuk, ever contrary, played dumb. He blinked, lashes fluttering. “The sorcerer is pretty,” he said lightly. “I’m merely curious.” Wonshik glared at him, and Sanghyuk cracked, smirking. “There’s three of them you know. Do you want the leftover one? He is pretty too. And he smells quite lovely.”

“He tasted lovely too,” Wonshik muttered, but he shook his head. “I do not relish challenges the way Hakyeon seems to. I prefer my lovers to be enthusiastic about the prospect of being with me.” He thought for a moment. “And he has too many teeth.”

Sanghyuk laughed. “The fact that you’ve bothered to note that means you were thinking of putting your dick in his mouth.”

Wonshik looked at him sourly. “Too many teeth,” he said shortly. Another pause. “He says my hair is ugly.”

“Your hair _is_ ugly.” Sanghyuk laughed again as Wonshik snarled at him.

——

Talking to Taekwoon any further was impossible. He locked himself in his room and wouldn’t answer them, though Hongbin spent a valiant amount of time calling him many colorful names through the door before he finally had to give up in favor of sleeping. He had a shift in the late morning.

Jaehwan understood. They’d tried. It wasn’t going to happen so easily, so quickly. He’d known that. But the whole thing left him unsettled, and now he was alone, the silence of the night pressing down on him. It was worse upstairs, somehow, so he went back down to the basement, his basement, where the quiet seemed more normal.

They should never have started hunting, but it had always seemed like the right thing to do. It still did. He could see where Taekwoon was coming from— but they weren’t saying they should quit forever. Jaehwan rather thought it was too late for that. They just needed to concentrate on the issue at hand. The house wards were still tittering, reminding Jaehwan that there was a vampire waiting for him, waiting for the spell. 

Yes. Jaehwan breathed deeply, tucking the thoughts of the past night out of his mind. He needed to begin piecing through what had happened that night a few years ago.

He kept journals all through his magical journey, extensive notes from the time he’d begun dabbling in sorcery. The ones from a few years ago were packed onto a shelf, and he tugged them down. It wasn’t hard to find the one he was searching for— it was thick with excerpts glued in, taped, stapled, samples of foliage wedged between the pages. The dried leaves crackled, pieces falling out as he moved the notebook to his desk. It wasn’t the sort he saw in movies— leatherbound and mystical looking. It was one of his old high school comp books. 

Jaehwan sat in front of it, flipping it right open to the last used page, already knowing the recipes he was going to see. None of the spells he’d been able to find already made in other old spellbooks — tomes the lot of them — had worked. And they had said in the books that they did not work. After a few months of trying to cobble together a spell from the parts of the ones that did not work, Jaehwan has scrapped it all, and began anew. 

Which had been foolish. He hadn’t had any training. But he’d thought he could guess well enough. The problem was, when it came to constructing, and deconstructing, spells, one had to know what, exactly, each ingredient did, and why. And Jaehwan didn’t, that information was tedious, all rote memorization, and also, very much unavailable for public access. He knew the basics of it all, yes. For instance, he knew candy caps should not be put into any spells with animal byproducts, lest spontaneous combustion happen. He knew any sort of ivy was best harvested under moonlight, and that under no circumstances should the blood of more than one species be mixed. But he didn’t know _why_ , and the whys of it all were the most important. 

He’d just thrown together anything he thought might work, and that wouldn’t clash with each other. Witch hazel and sage, because they were used in protective warding. Bones from a small finch, fire charred. Sea salt and copper. An obsidian totem, to house the spell, for all spells needed a vessel, somewhere to live. And lamb’s blood, to power it. 

They hadn’t worked. He touched his fingertips to the pages. None of the spells he’d made worked. In desperate frustration, when the last one had fizzled itself into harmlessness, Jaehwan had taken his spell knife and cut a gash into his own arm, letting the blood patter out, over the lines of his Circle. Because, he’d thought, maybe everything was right, the kindling was set, and what it lacked was energy, a spark to finally get it going. 

Other sunlight spells made mention of human blood, of sacrifice. Jaehwan was not the first to think of such an idea. He was, perhaps, the first to use his own blood, and not from a cup, pre-collected, but right from his own veins.

It needed too much power to live, could not be sustained on a cup of dead lamb’s blood. No, it needed constant fuel, lest it fizzle out before it could begin. Jaehwan imagined that was why, in the past, no one had ever gotten it to work, not even with human sacrifice. Those methods all used terminated energy. The spell could not live in a vessel of stone or wood, a fact no one in the past would have suspected. A totem was a totem, after all. Some suited different spells better than others, but they had little to do with workability. 

So why would anyone think that instead of putting the spell in a totem, it should be placed in a living vessel, to feed on energy as it was generated. Jaehwan certainly hadn’t. Spells, curses, could be placed _on_ people, but that wasn’t the same thing at all. It had never even occurred to Jaehwan that such a thing was possible. 

In retrospect, such an event had probably happened before. Most likely, it was why every damn book he’d ever come across said not to use one’s own blood when casting a spell. But it was never spelled out so clearly, that cross contamination could happen, that the spell could fritz and bypass the intended totem and instead catch fire in the blood, follow it into the caster’s veins. 

Jaehwan should have died. He’d thought he was going to. It consumed him, burning, stealing his energy until he could feel his heart fluttering weakly, until he couldn’t scream anymore.

But it plateaued out. And Jaehwan still drew breath, even when the spell was at its peak. It stretched, filling him up to his fingertips and toes, he’d been able to _feel_ it. But still he lived. And it came down, in small increments. Spells needed a large burst of energy to come to life, but to continue living, they did not need quite as much.

It did not kill him that night. But it drained him, every minute that passed, and eventually, eventually, his body would not be able to keep up with the demand. He was only still alive because of how strong he was— the spell took most of that power, left him just enough for his heart to continue beating on. 

He was the spell. But also he wasn’t. It was a parasite inside him.

And it left him with very few options in their current predicament.

Jaehwan could give Hakyeon the spell ingredients written on the page resting under his fingertips. It had been the one he’d been trying, the night it had happened. But he didn’t think it would truly fulfil his end of the deal. Jaehwan was less inclined to think he’d gotten the ingredients just right, and a lot more convinced his intentions had summoned the spell, which then only lived because it took him as its own. 

And Jaehwan didn’t think he could replicate _that_. He didn’t think anyone could. No more than he, or anyone, could undo it. Spells lived. They lived until they ran out of energy or their vessel was destroyed. 

Sadly, in Jaehwan’s case, it was looking like those two things were going to be one in the same.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week has been really really awful for me, the reasons for which some of you definitely share, and others that are more personal. But the world continues to turn, so. I thought maybe we could use something happy(?) today. I really like this chapter.

Kyungsoo surprised Hakyeon by waiting for him just inside the gates. 

The spells around the perimeter meant Hakyeon did not see him while walking up, he had simply flickered over the fence and suddenly Kyungsoo was there. Were he not well practiced at this, he might have startled, but as it was he simply stilled, for a second, before stepping forward to kiss Kyungsoo’s soft cheek.

“Am I late?” Hakyeon asked. His master had not given him a time, and he had woken just after dusk as was becoming his custom, and after dressing primly he’d left. He’d taken an extra few seconds to wake Sanghyuk before he’d gone, to make sure his child would be at the hunters’ house to watch over it quickly, but that had taken very little time. 

For a moment, his mind wandered, to how much he would rather be there, chasing Taekwoon, than here, dealing with business. But he made himself focus on the now with a snap. It was important to be on one’s toes when around Kyungsoo. 

“Not at all,” Kyungsoo said smoothly, looping his arm with Hakyeon’s and beginning to guide him up towards the house. “I merely wanted to take you in through the front, so you could get the full effect of things.”

 _The full effect_ , Hakyeon thought, looking up at the elegant stone building. It was ablaze with internal lights, all the windows of the lower level glowing. Hakyeon rather liked the ambience of it.

Kyungsoo, just for show, pushed open both front doors, revealing the entrance hall with its black gleaming floors and long, slender tables pushed up against the walls. Hand painted vases atop them were still devoid of any flowers. 

Jongdae was waiting for them there, dressed in black slacks paired with a cool grey button down. It made Hakyeon feel a little underdressed, in his grey distressed jeans and white turtleneck sweater, but Kyungsoo was also wearing a simple long sleeved shirt and jeans. And Hakyeon’s sweater was cashmere, at least. 

Realizing Kyungsoo was waiting for him to say something, Hakyeon said, “It is very grand, but not in a way that is overwhelming.” He gestured at Jongdae. “This doesn’t match well, though.”

Jongdae grinned, fangs poking out. “Are you wearing that sweater to hide your giraffe neck?” 

Hakyeon touched the neck of his sweater, scowling, and Kyungsoo stepped between them smartly. “Children,” he said flatly, and Jongdae giggled, but fell silent.

Jongdae was not, in fact, Kyungsoo’s child. He was simply an old friend and business partner. He would be the hands-on manager of this place, for which Hakyeon was glad. Firstly, because Jongdae was good at this sort of thing, and secondly, because it meant Hakyeon wouldn’t have to be. 

“So,” Kyungsoo said, smoothing over the moment, “this is where clients will walk in. We’ll have Jongdae here to greet them, or a few other humans on staff. Non-feeders. I don’t want to have the feeders just roaming about during business hours. I want them either in their rooms or in one of the parlours.”

Hakyeon nodded. Various feeder houses ran things in different ways, but they could generally be divided into two types: those meant for function, and those more meant for fun. Kyungsoo’s were the latter without exception. Those meant for function tended to be a lot more clinical, like what Hakyeon imagined a drive-through experience was like. Stocked to the brim with feeders, meant to provide sustenance and nothing more. 

But those meant for fun were a much more in depth, personal experience. And definitely more like a five course meal than a drive-through. Because of that they had fewer feeders, and charged more money for them, but they also offered a wider array of services. Generally one feeder would only have one client a night, or, as oftentimes happened, the house would host business gatherings, or parties, and act as both a venue and sort of catering service. Sort of. 

“How many feeders did you settle on?” Hakyeon asked Kyungsoo.

The corners of Kyungsoo’s mouth tightened in displeasure, and he stepped back to the doors to close them softly. “Eight,” he said, and Jongdae fidgeted. “Four boys and four girls. But one of the boys got snatched out from under me and I am very put out about it so don’t ask too many questions.”

Hakyeon looked to Jongdae, who met his eyes. Hakyeon raised his eyebrows in silent question, and Jongdae shook his head, pressing his lips together tightly to hold back his smile. So. The boy had been bribed away. Possibly by a business rival, but more likely simply by a patron with a great deal of money who wanted to make him a personal feeder. 

“Will you be postponing open to find a replacement?” Hakyeon asked.

Jongdae shook his head, and Kyungsoo said, “No. I want to open in a month, and I check backgrounds too extensively to make that deadline if we did that. So, I will simply fill the void when another suitable candidate comes along.” 

That made sense. Background checks on feeders were basic security, but Kyungsoo took them especially seriously, and so did Hakyeon. Burned once, as they say.

“So, clients walk in here, and if they know who to ask for, they can be taken right to the appropriate room,” Hakyeon said. “But it will take time, to gather regulars, so where will first time clients be taken to when they need to be shown their options?”

Jongdae pointed down the hallway to their right. “One of the parlours, preferably— has he seen the parlours?” The question was directed at Kyungsoo.

“Yes,” both Hakyeon and Kyungsoo answered at the same time. Kyungsoo sniffed.

“Just asking,” Jongdae said simply. He moved, pointing to the hallway on the opposite side, their left. “If the parlours are all occupied, we can have them meet the feeders in the small, or large, den.”

“But I would prefer to avoid the large den if at all possible, because that room is less for business and more for daytime use,” Kyungsoo said, and again, Hakyeon nodded. It was a room built for comfort rather than show, for the feeders to use in their off hours. It would be kept pristine, but there was no hiding the feeling of personalization in rooms like that. Especially because he knew the den was right beside the kitchen, and had the door to the back porch. 

“And where am I going to meet the feeders?” Hakyeon asked, already knowing the answer.

“The large den,” Jongdae said, grinning. “Because we don’t need to impress you.”

Kyungsoo shot him a look. “Jongdae, go upstairs and fetch them, thank you,” he said shortly, and Jongdae gave a theatrical bow before striding into the right-hand hallway. Once he was gone, Kyungsoo looped his arm with Hakyeon’s again, and said, “Come.”

Hakyeon bit back a sigh, because this was going to take a while, and he wanted to _go_. If the hunters split up again, Taekwoon could get into any manner of trouble while alone.

Kyungsoo guided Hakyeon to the left, and they passed the small den— small being a very inappropriate descriptor. But it was the _smaller_ den. It had a wide arching doorway, with no door to speak of, and a very large hearth around which were gathered an ample number of places to sit. The furniture looked sturdy but still elegant, patterns muted and tasteful. If this were a human house, it was the sort of room a toddler would never be allowed to trespass into. 

Further down the hallway curved and widened before opening into the large den. There was no hearth here, but there was a very large television built into the wall, and couches aplenty, all upholstered with warm brown leather and very overstuffed. 

On one of the overstuffed couches sat Junmyeon, leaning forward and pouring over notes and a ledger he’d spread out over the coffee table. He looked up when they came into the room, a smile spreading over his face even if his heart began to pound. Instinct was always a challenge for humans. “Hakyeon,” he said, standing up. “I thought I heard voices. When did you get here?”

Hakyeon, not for the first time, wondered what it was like to have senses as dull as a human's. It had been so long since he’d been one he’d forgotten. “Only about five minutes ago.”

“I was having Junmyeon catch Jongdae up on the financial plans, among some other things,” Kyungsoo said, motioning flippantly at the notes on the table. Seeing Hakyeon’s face, he added, “We shall spare you it, have no fear.”

“Thank you,” Hakyeon said, and perhaps he sounded a little too relieved. Junmyeon was their financial adviser and their accountant, and as far as Hakyeon was concerned, they hired him so they wouldn’t have to deal with it. But Kyungsoo shot him a sharp look. “What?”

“You seem displeased to be here,” Kyungsoo said, mild in a way that Hakyeon knew covered upset. “Am I keeping you from something?”

 _A hunter with a very pretty mouth_ , Hakyeon thought, but what he said was, "No, I just don't exactly have a passion for running these places like you do.”

Kyungsoo’s glare turned squinty. "You sure do like spending the money that gets generated though," he said, and Hakyeon's lips pursed. "I don't have a passion for it, Hakyeon, but our coffers have to be filled somehow."

"No one says coffers anymore," Hakyeon muttered. "You're dating yourself."

Kyungsoo frowned, and Hakyeon was saved from the oncoming scolding by the sound of footsteps approaching, heartbeats and soft breaths. He turned to look back at the hallway from which they’d come through, and saw Jongdae, leading the humans in a small group.

Once they reached the den Jongdae moved off to the side, falling back, so the feeders could spread out in a semicircle in front of Kyungsoo and Hakyeon, in a way that was an odd mimicry of what they would probably do for a new client. Their heartbeats were steady, and in many other houses, their posture may have been a bit shifty, or shy. But not these ones. Hakyeon knew they had all learned — or been trained, as the case may be — to carry themselves well. 

They were all fairly young, but Kyungsoo as a rule never hired anyone who was under twenty-one. Their youth, and the faint scars that marked healed bite wounds, were about the only things the feeders all had in common. That and they were all pretty, in one way or another. But they had a good variety, Hakyeon thought, tall and short, soft and thin, dark and fair. 

Hakyeon’s eyes fell on the only one he knew. Yixing had worked in another house, and while he wasn’t very striking, he had an air Hakyeon had always liked, something unassuming and soothing about him that reminded Hakyeon of Wonshik. The boy and girl standing directly on his other sides shone where he didn’t, and the girl in particular, with her short stature and ample curves, was probably going to be a favorite of Wonshik’s if no one else, Hakyeon knew. Hakyeon didn’t favor women, but he could see her beauty. 

“They look good,” Hakyeon said, eyes sweeping over the others. “Healthy.” 

“We’re opening next month because I want to make sure everyone is well adjusted before then. And I hope, thus far, everything has gone well?” Kyungsoo lilted the last part, looking to the feeders. He was met with nods and murmurs of agreement, soft smiles. 

“Who is managing them during the day?” Hakyeon asked, glancing at Junmyeon, but he thought that was a rather unlikely option. Junmyeon was a tad bit too high strung.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo said, and Hakyeon’s eyebrows raised in surprise before he could catch himself. He wanted to press a bit further— upgrading Jongin from a feeder to a business asset was quite a choice, but Hakyeon new better than to second guess Kyungsoo in front of others. Others outside the bloodline, anyway. 

Kyungsoo did not look at him, but Hakyeon could read his body language well enough, the slight defensiveness to his posture. He knew this was a point that would be contended with. Well. At least he hadn’t gone daft. 

“I see,” was all Hakyeon said in reply, once again scanning the feeders. Seven was a good number. If things went well, Hakyeon would eventually push to upgrade them to ten. But for now this would serve them well enough.

“Do you have any questions for them?” Kyungsoo asked pointedly.

Hakyeon shook his head, looking down at his feet. When the hallway ended, the black floors had given way to plush white carpet. They should have taken their shoes off. “No.”

“Jongdae,” Kyungsoo said, and the feeders fell out of formation as Jongdae stepped forward, presumably to either herd them back upstairs or into the kitchen. In a soft aside, Kyungsoo murmured to Hakyeon, “Come.”

He did not loop his arm in Hakyeon’s this time, simply swept out of the room and assumed Hakyeon would follow, which he did. Kyungsoo took him briskly across the house, into one of the larger parlours, the one with the more rustic theme, complete with a bearskin rug in front of a giant fireplace. Hakyeon hated it, but Kyungsoo had said he wanted to rooms to have different ambiances, so there it sat. He wondered if Kyungsoo had taken him to this room with it in mind.

Kyungsoo closed the door behind them, and as soon as it shut, the silencing charms of the room sealed them in, and the sound of footsteps and heartbeats cut out and left a ringing silence. 

“You are distracted,” Kyungsoo said, eyeing Hakyeon levelly. He stepped further into the room to sit leisurely in a giant armchair that just about swallowed his tiny frame. 

Hakyeon opted to remain standing. “I’m not distracted, I’m just—” He cast around for the right word, staring at the large, landscape painting on the wall, but nothing appropriate came. “Distracted,” he said in defeat, shoulders slumping a little.

Kyungsoo hummed, gesturing at the armchair across from his. “Sit. And tell me of our little sorcerer problem, as that is where I believe your thoughts are. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wondering how things were going with him.”

Hakyeon, ever obedient, sat, but he stayed on the edge of the seat, as prim as he could be when sitting on an armchair designed to apparently consume people. “We have them under watch, and relatively reigned in,” Hakyeon said. “The sorcerer and I have reached the terms of a deal, but he is still hesitating on taking it. Physically, he is very weak. He does not seem to leave the house.”

“So, you think they do not pose a very strong, immediate danger after all?” Kyungsoo asked, a little too casually. “When last I saw you, you were rather perturbed over this issue.”

Hakyeon fought not to react. “That was because I was unsure of the sorcerer’s mind and state,” he said. “It was clear he was unwell, but more than that— while he demonstrated aspects of ruthlessness, he was not hostile, not like the two hunters.” He flexed his fingers, remembering the pain of Jaehwan’s hand on his arm, the fire of it. A warning, but a controlled one, no vitriol in the action. It had been simple survival. “And while he definitely possesses large quantities of magic, his illness renders him weak, too weak to survive squandering it on, say, a large scale vampire attack. Even if he was so inclined to, which, I do not think he is.”

Kyungsoo hummed again, gaze assessing in a way that made Hakyeon want to squirm. “But the hunters are hostile, as you said,” Kyungsoo murmured, and Hakyeon held his breath. “No need to act, Hakyeon. I am aware you are tackling this issue with more delicacy because of your own feelings. But I would hope you are also keeping some measure of neutrality here, an ability to step back and assess things smartly.” The threat was subtle, but it was unmistakably there. _I trust you so don’t fucking blow it_. 

“I have them all under constant watch at night, I am monitoring them, as I said.” Hakyeon’s hands clenched in his lap. “They do nothing, the sorcerer remains at home. They seem to be divided, currently, on if they should continue hunting at all.”

“That is good, because eventually that will have to be stopped as well, one way or another,” Kyungsoo said pointedly. He looked levelly at Hakyeon, unflinching. “You can play this out, Hakyeon. Do what you must, what it is you feel so compelled to do. But you cannot watch them forever, eventually they must yield. Or be taken care of.”

A week ago, Hakyeon would not have thought twice about such an order. But now, Taekwoon’s voice echoed back to Hakyeon. _We’re so worthless to your kind_. 

Hakyeon loved Kyungsoo, and he was not a cruel vampire. He was only practical. But oh, how that practicality looked like cruelty, when he was gazing through Taekwoon’s eyes. 

“Yes,” Hakyeon said softly. “I understand.”

——

Sanghyuk stared down at the hunters’ house from his perch on a neighboring roof, wondering how best to go about this. 

It had taken him longer than he meant to get up, dressed, and out of the house. By the time he’d arrived the car in the driveway was gone. He didn’t know if whoever had taken it had left before dusk or after— a failing Hakyeon was probably going to ream him for later.

The only thing that kept him from utterly panicking was the fact that there were lights on inside the house, and he could see shadows of at least one person moving around within. So they hadn’t made a run for it. More likely, one or both of the hunters had gone hunting, and the sorcerer had remained behind. Which suited Sanghyuk’s needs just fine. 

Throwing caution and subtlety to the winds, he leapt off the neighbor’s roof and landed in the hunter’s backyard. From here, he could see into their kitchen, and was granted a glimpse of the sorcerer’s face. 

Sanghyuk bit his bottom lip. The sorcerer was so lovely. And so potent. Sanghyuk still hadn’t figured out the secrets of his sunlight spell, but he hoped talking to the sorcerer would possibly jostle something loose in his brain. Maybe the sorcerer would slip up if Sanghyuk threw enough guesses at him. Maybe simply being near him and getting a feel for his energy would reveal something.

“But how to get you to me,” Sanghyuk whispered to himself. 

The sorcerer— Jaehwan— stopped in front of the kitchen window, leaning forward and squinting out into the darkness. Beside him appeared the prettier hunter, and Sanghyuk grumbled in displeasure— it was going to be harder, getting the sorcerer to talk to him if they had company.

Sanghyuk figured there was nothing to lose by going at this directly, so he flickered onto the porch and knocked decisively on the back door.

——

“Is he serious?” Hongbin whispered, staring across the kitchen at the back door.

Jaehwan swallowed, also gazing at the door. After a few seconds of them standing, frozen and unsure what to do, the vampire outside knocked again. With Taekwoon out of the house — gone before Jaehwan had even been able to leave his basement room — he felt especially vulnerable. But even if he was here, if the vamps wanted to kill them, they could do it just as easily regardless. And they probably wouldn’t be knocking.

“Fuck,” Jaehwan said under his breath, stepping forward and grabbing the doorknob. Hongbin hissed as Jaehwan pulled the door open, revealing a vampire looming in the doorway.

Hongbin was there, then, pressed to Jaehwan’s side. “Asshole, do you have my phone—” Hongbin cut off, as they registered the vampire in front of them was neither Hakyeon nor his silver-haired child. It was the third one, height staggeringly high. Like Hakyeon, his hair was dark, and of course, he was vampire— but that was where the similarities ended. This one was pale where Hakyeon was golden, face sharp as opposed to Hakyeon’s softness. There was something fluid and almost feminine about Hakyeon, that neither of his children, this one especially, seemed to share at all. 

The vampire blinked down at them both, rapidly, like he was trying to adjust to the strong light coming out of the kitchen. “I don’t have your phone— I didn’t realize I was supposed to,” he said. 

Jaehwan’s eyes darted behind the creature, but he saw no other company. Hakyeon must have gone in search of Taekwoon, a thought that made Jaehwan’s stomach sink and his fists clench. “If your maker sent you to inquire about our prior conversation,” Jaehwan said through gritted teeth, “you can tell him I am still thinking on it.”

The vampire stared down at him, and Jaehwan hated how hard his heart was pounding. They were still inside the house, just enough, and the vampire would not be able to reach out and grab them. But that was hard to remember when to his eyes, there was nothing but air and a foot of space separating them. At his side, he could feel Hongbin trembling slightly, but his breath was slow and even.

After a long moment, the vampire looked away, at the door frame instead. “My maker did not send me to speak to you,” he said, reaching up to pick a piece of peeling paint off the frame. “He sent me here to watch over you, but I wanted to speak to you of my own accord.” He rubbed his fingers together, and the flecks of paint fell from his skin to the floor. 

Jaehwan wasn’t fooled by his nonchalance, and wondered what new tactic this was. “Speak quickly then,” Jaehwan said tersely, “all the warm air is escaping.”

The vampire smiled a little, and it lacked Hakyeon’s sharp edges, had no taint of condescension. “You could come outside,” he said. “I did not hurt you before; I will not hurt you now.” He shifted, as if to make room for Jaehwan to step out.

Rationally, Jaehwan knew the vampires, for now, seemed to want him alive. But still, he didn’t want to make himself so vulnerable with so little backup. Last time Taekwoon had been locked away, but he had still been _there_. Jaehwan didn’t feel quite confident enough to face this vampire without both his hunters at his back, especially when he wasn’t feeling tip top tonight. His efforts before he’d slept had worn on him, and he felt a bit spread thin.

“Before, you did not hurt me because you knew the damage I could do,” Jaehwan said. “Not out of any kindness.” 

The vampire was frowning, mostly in what appeared to be bafflement. “At first, yes,” he said. “But I had ample opportunity after that, when you were unconscious in my arms.” 

Hongbin made a small sound, of unhappy surprise. Jaehwan felt his face go cold, very fast, and fought the instinct to turn to Hongbin and yell, _What?_

“Ah, they didn’t tell you that part,” the vampire said, and there was nothing mocking in his tone. Instead, his eyes roved over Jaehwan’s face— seemingly in concern. “You are very pale.”

“I—” Jaehwan began, cutting himself off and glanced at Hongbin. “Stop touching me,” he muttered, voice barely audible, and Hongbin immediately leaned away so they were no longer making contact. Jaehwan didn’t trust himself not to inadvertently spark right now.

He had wondered why when he’d woken up from fainting, he hadn’t had any bumps or bruises from smacking down onto the concrete. He had assumed Taekwoon had caught him. Or perhaps that he had tripped far enough and landed in the overgrown grass. He looked up, at this vampire with its cheekbones sharp as a glass edge, and his stomach swooped at the idea of it holding him when he was unconscious. 

Taekwoon had probably been distraught about it, which was also most likely why he had left it out of his recounting of the story. Damn him. 

“Breathe,” the vampire said very softly, and Jaehwan, without thinking, inhaled deeply. The dishware on the countertop had begun to rattle, but it stopped abruptly. 

“Jae,” Hongbin said softly, and Jaehwan held up his hand, to indicate Hongbin should really not, right now. Hongbin stepped back further, and Jaehwan heard him quickly leave the kitchen entirely. Jaehwan didn’t know where he was going. Hopefully to dig out their crossbow.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” the vampire murmured, head tilting to the side as his eyes grew a bit hooded. What _was_ this new tactic. “But as I said, I did not hurt you then. I won’t hurt you now.”

“You touched me,” Jaehwan whispered, more to himself than anything else. He still felt a bit queasy, at the thought of this vampire cradling him, his neck bared for it, helpless. In an effort to hide his upset, he tried to glare at the creature, but was too scared to quite meet his eyes, and settled for glaring at his nose instead. 

The vampire bit his bottom lip. “Jaehwan,” he said softly, and the sound of his name whispered that way made a shiver run down Jaehwan’s spine. “That is your name, yes? I’m Sanghyuk, Hakyeon’s youngest child.” He paused, faltering, as Jaehwan continued to stare up at him. “Breathe.”

Jaehwan inhaled again, but he did it spitefully. He wasn’t sure how one could breathe spitefully, but he felt he’d done it. “What do you want from me?”

Sanghyuk’s lips parted, for a moment, eyes roving over Jaehwan’s face. “You are so powerful,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “Both Wonshik and Hakyeon concurred that you were the least hostile of the bunch. But I suppose that is like saying an arrow to the chest causes less damage than a gunshot.”

Jaehwan, ridiculously, found himself blushing a little. He glanced over his shoulder, but Hongbin had not yet returned. Jaehwan needed him back here. “You talk about us.”

“Well, yes, just as I am sure you do us,” Sanghyuk said. He put his hands on either side of the doorframe, leaning forward as far as he could before the wards stopped him. 

Jaehwan wanted to step back, because Sanghyuk’s face was very close to his own, and his size was intimidating. Jaehwan wasn’t short by any means but Sanghyuk looming over him made him feel small. His heart was pounding, and he was so faint it felt more like a fluttering in his chest. But he didn’t want to look weak, so he held his ground, still glaring up, shoulders stiff and hands fisted at his sides.

Sanghyuk appeared to take note of all of it. “Though I think,” Sanghyuk added softly, his gaze taking Jaehwan apart, “we talk of you a bit differently than you speak of us.”

Jaehwan wasn’t sure what that meant, it seemed rather cryptic, and before he could ask Sanghyuk had leaned down a bit further, inhaling deeply near Jaehwan’s cheek. Jaehwan didn’t like that his mouth was so near, and the animalistic action made goosebumps rise on his skin.

“Do I smell like a good meal?” Jaehwan asked with a bravado he didn’t quite feel. The words came from his mouth, but they were Hongbin’s and he couldn’t deliver them the way his friend would have.

“You smell weird,” Sanghyuk muttered, and Jaehwan, for some inexplicable reason, was vaguely affronted by that. Sanghyuk leaned the other way, inhaling on Jaehwan’s other side. “I wish you’d come closer.”

Jaehwan could feel Sanghyuk’s breath on his skin as he’d spoken. The house wards were seething. They were close enough.

“No.” Jaehwan leaned a little further back, just to be contrary, and he saw, for a flash, that Sanghyuk’s eyes had fluttered shut. He opened them when Jaehwan pulled back. “What do you mean I smell weird?”

Sanghyuk blinked slowly at him, and no matter what Sanghyuk may have said about not meaning him harm, Jaehwan could recognize the faint signs of bloodlust in a vamp. Jaehwan felt suspiciously warm— if Sanghyuk was trying to glamour him, he’d burn him like he’d done with Hakyeon.

“You smell like a charm,” Sanghyuk said, a little thickly, and Jaehwan laughed, a short, broken off sound. “And kind of like a vampire.”

That stopped Jaehwan smiling. “How is that possible?”

Sanghyuk’s eyelashes fluttered, and he smiled, in a way that let Jaehwan know it was the only answer he was going to get. It made fear rise in Jaehwan— whatever game this vampire was playing, Jaehwan did not want to play it with him.

The anxiety in turn made him agitated in his own way, a new shortness of breath coming over him. “What do you _want_?” 

“Breathe, Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said, his head tilting. Jaehwan was struck with the fact that he was beautiful, like Hakyeon was beautiful. In that eerie, deadly way. “I want to help you,” Sanghyuk murmured, and somehow, Jaehwan felt a pull, that called to him to step forward, against Sanghyuk. It didn’t feel quite like glamour, but there was magic, in every word Sanghyuk spoke. “You’re dying, Jaehwan. And it will happen soon. Sooner than I think you realize. You’re leaking magic, it’s bleeding from you, I can practically taste it in the air. But I think we can help you.”

Here it was, the trap, sweetly set. Jaehwan tried to calm his racing heart, feeling magic lay heavily just under his skin. “I’m not fooled by whatever act this is— Hakyeon is a snake, but at least he doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what he is,” Jaehwan said, ashamed of how his voice shook. “Do us both a favor and speak plainly. I know this isn’t about saving me for the sake of it.”

At some point, Jaehwan had begun to look directly into Sanghyuk’s eyes, and even though he knew he shouldn’t be, he couldn’t seem to look away. 

In response to Jaehwan’s hostility, he expected Sanghyuk to match it. But he didn’t. He didn’t even react. Instead, quiet as a whisper, Sanghyuk asked, “Have you ever held a bird, Jaehwan?” 

Jaehwan blinked, feeling like he was waking from some odd dream. “What?”

“A bird. A small one. Have you ever held one?”

It was such an odd question, and Jaehwan’s brain was slow to process it. “I— only baby ones,” Jaehwan said slowly, thinking back to his childhood. “Ones that fell from the nest.” Fragile, fledgling things. They died, they always died, but the compulsion to try to save them was too much, every time. “I don’t—”

“I think holding you would be like that,” Sanghyuk continued in that whisper. “Your heartbeat sounds like wings.” 

Jaehwan’s face, his fingertips, stomach, they all went cold in a sickening wave, the instinctual terror of knowing a vampire wanted him crashing down. But it was followed up by a blush, his stomach twisting into knots. Was he being glamoured, he wondered, fighting the urge to sway forward.

“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk murmured, his voice seeming so far away, “let me help you.”

They died. They all died. With their translucent skin and underdeveloped wings, cries that petered off into soft exhalations of death. If that was Jaehwan, he could not be helped. Not even by a vampire. 

“Ah,” Sanghyuk said, and the gentle exclamation jolted Jaehwan back into something more like a waking state. Sanghyuk’s eyes flickered over Jaehwan’s shoulder, and Jaehwan realized he could hear footsteps just as he realized he had stepped too far— he wasn’t in the house anymore.

“Hey,” Hongbin was saying, voice alarmed, “get back—”

Jaehwan made a high, keening noise of distress, turning to see Hongbin stomping back in the kitchen. But he didn’t pull away fast enough, and Sanghyuk grabbed his shoulders from behind, hands large and warm through Jaehwan’s shirt. 

Hongbin stopped dead in the middle of the kitchen, looking stricken. He couldn’t have been gone more than five minutes, and in his hand he held their container of Fae Sprae— which would not be fun for a creature like Sanghyuk to get in his eyes, Jaehwan knew. Hongbin must have been planning on shooing Sanghyuk off with it.

Jaehwan stared at Hongbin from across the kitchen, heart fluttering and breathing shallow. He was fizzing, skin sparking, if he reached up, he could burn Sanghyuk’s hands, but he wasn’t sure he was fast enough, wasn’t sure he quite dared when he felt so weak—

Sanghyuk’s hands tightened on his shoulders, and he pulled Jaehwan back, mouth against his ear. “Keep breathing, Jaehwan,” he whispered, and then he was gone.

——

Taekwoon’s phone kept ringing, and finally he had to duck under the balcony of a closed restaurant to answer it. No point trying to be stealthy with his phone quietly pinging at him.

“What?” he answered it with, impatient as he glanced down the street, but there were no cars, not here. He was on the perimeter of the hunting grounds— he’d driven past several VCF cars when going to the hotspot, and so hadn’t been able to stop there. Part of him was glad the VCF were finally involved, but it meant Taekwoon had to be careful, of more than just the vampires. He did not want to be arrested.

“Hakyeon sent his second child to babysit us tonight,” Hongbin’s terse voice crackled over the line. “But the maker himself doesn’t seem to be here. I imagine he will find you soon, so watch your back. I think they’re starting to get more aggressive.”

“I don’t need cryptic messages,” Taekwoon hissed. 

“I’ll tell you more when you come home,” Hongbin snapped. “Until then just be fucking careful— I don’t like not having you here, and I don’t like not being there. We shouldn’t be splitting up like this—”

“Thank you,” Taekwoon said sharply. “I will be on my toes.” He swiped the call closed on Hongbin’s indignant indrawn breath. 

Aggressive. Did that mean violent, or simply more insistent? Taekwoon knew, rationally, the vampires’ patience would eventually run out. He looked up, exhaling, wondering what this meant.

After putting his phone back in his pocket he pushed off from the wall of the restaurant, back onto the sidewalk proper. He wasn’t sure what to do— they had no leads for this area, and he was too far from the college— there weren’t going to be any people wandering around this neighborhood after dark. He’d be better off skulking around the bars that stayed open after dark, but they had more cameras on that end of downtown, more lights, _because_ people were out there. 

No, he was better off here. It wasn’t within the previously established hunting grounds, but it was near enough to them, and quiet enough, that a vampire would potentially come through in search of a straggler.

Taekwoon walked, passing under the light of one street lamp, then another, his shadow lengthening and and shortening as he went. When he stepped in front of the mouth of a side street, not quite an alley but narrow nonetheless, his silver earring began to warm, the skin at his nape prickling uncomfortably. He dropped his hand to his side, where his dagger rested and stepped closer to the street, further out of the light. He didn’t know what he was looking for, exactly; a sign that the vampire was still hunting in this area, a sign that he was scaring it off, but if there was something—

A figure appeared out of the shadows, walking human pace like it had been there all along, although a second earlier it had not been there at all. Taekwoon took a startled step backwards, heart skipping a beat sickly, even though he knew that gait, the narrow width of those shoulders. 

The light fell in a reflected glow off Hakyeon’s face once he reached the mouth of the street. “Hello, kitten,” he said softly, a very faint smile on his lips. 

Taekwoon’s face twisted in a semblance of a snarl, the slight fright Hakyeon had given him turned to annoyance, almost anger. Taekwoon was surprised how fast it welled up.

“How did you find me?” he asked, and at his tone, Hakyeon’s smile faded. Hongbin had said that Hakyeon would be trying to find him, but Taekwoon had set out before night fell, running errands as the sun set, in the hopes of throwing Hakyeon off his trail. He couldn’t hunt, couldn’t even effectively patrol, with Hakyeon at his side.

Hakyeon tilted his head a little, making a sort of vague motion with his hand. “I could just sense you,” he said, and Taekwoon didn’t like that one bit. 

“I do not want you here,” Taekwoon said flatly, and Hakyeon’s face twisted. He turned without waiting for a response and continued down the street, practically stalking in his anger.

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, catching up to Taekwoon easily despite Taekwoon’s longer strides. It wasn’t like Hakyeon could get out of breath. “Things have-- we don’t have time for this anymore. You’re going to get hurt, hunting on your own. This has to stop” 

It felt too close to what Hongbin and Jaehwan had said the previous night, and Taekwoon wondered where he would be able to go, to get away from this fucking needling. “Oh, fuck _off_ ,” he said. “My life is nothing to you, so don’t even start.”

He heard Hakyeon huff. “I told you, you’re not nothing to me—”

“Right,” Taekwoon said, a slight pant in his voice because _he_ was getting out of breath. Hakyeon kept up with him easily. “Because if I’m gone, there goes the deal with Jaehwan, right? Oh, and any chance you have of making me your sex slave.”

“Taekwoon _stop_ ,” Hakyeon said loudly, and Taekwoon did, deliberately whirling directly under a lamppost, so Hakyeon would have difficulty seeing him. It was unclear what emotion was on Hakyeon’s face, but to Taekwoon’s eyes, he looked— upset. “I’ve told you that I want you because of the better aspects of your personality— because I found your loyalty admirable. I’m not some base monster who just wants to consume your flesh and blood, who just— just— wants to turn you into something less.” 

Hakyeon’s voice had begun to shake by the end, and inexplicably, Taekwoon felt the beginnings of guilt well up in him. He was being cruel. 

Hakyeon stared at him, brow hitched and eyes liquid and dark. He was wearing a white turtleneck. The color suited him. Even in dim lighting, he was beautiful. Beautiful in death.

Vampires didn’t feel the way humans could, Taekwoon thought in a snap, shaking himself. He was projecting— in the same way people did with inanimate objects, humanizing stuffed animals, apologizing when they got dropped. They couldn’t feel, but humans tended to assign emotions anyway. It was a thing. And it wasn’t something Taekwoon was going to let himself get caught up in now. 

“I don’t care why you want me,” Taekwoon said, the words coming from his mouth but sounding far away. “The thought of being intimate with you makes me want to be sick.” 

The spasm that crossed over Hakyeon’s face before it wiped its expression clean had definitely been pain. Taekwoon pretended he didn’t see it. “I know,” Hakyeon said softly, stepping up nearer to him, “which is why I told you I will not push you. I am not here for that, things are in motion now, and you have to stop hunting.”

Taekwoon shot it a disbelieving look. “I’m not one of your children. You can’t just order me to do something, and have me obey.”

Hakyeon’s mouth was twisting, in a way Taekwoon wasn’t sure was entirely conscious. It definitely had edges of pain to it. “I am just trying to keep you from getting killed—”

“You’re protecting your investments, as you told me last night,” Taekwoon spat, taking a step back to keep the distance between them. “I don’t need a monster for a guard, or babysitter.”

“ _I am not a monster_ ,” Hakyeon said, far too intensely for how close they were. Taekwoon’s earring burned, and his heart pounded unpleasantly. “Why do you hate me so much? I’ve done you no wrong.” 

An incredulous laugh bubbled up Taekwoon’s throat, wholly without volition. The sound was soft enough that it didn’t echo. Hakyeon couldn’t be serious. “We already had this conversation last night,” Taekwoon said simply. “You’re a murderer, and you almost killed one of my best friends.”

“I apologized for that,” Hakyeon said softly, and it was nearly petulant, like a child.

Taekwoon’s nose wrinkled. “And you think that makes it all better?”

Hakyeon stepped forward again, edging further into the light. “How can you damn me for killing when you’re a killer too?” it asked, and Taekwoon stepped back, not wanting it near him. 

“I kill vampires,” he said, confusion cutting through his anger. “Vampires are all damned, humans aren’t.”

“Every vampire you’ve killed had family too, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, still coming forward, edging Taekwoon back until Taekwoon knocked against the lamppost, head thunking unpleasantly on the metal. Hakyeon was awash in pale yellow light, and it flattened his features out, creating sharp black shadows. His eyes seemed to glow with it.

One of Taekwoon’s hands went behind himself, touching the lamppost, while the other hovered around his chest, like that would keep Hakyeon away. “I don’t count makers.”

“I don’t mean makers,” Hakyeon said, and he was so near that Taekwoon’s fingertips were brushing against his chest, pressing, as if that could hold Hakyeon back. Hakyeon’s face was tipped up slightly, so he could stare into Taekwoon’s face. “I was human. I had family who loved me. I had—”

“And you threw it away,” Taekwoon cut him off, voice going a bit high because Hakyeon was too close. His heart was thumping, skin flashing hot and cold as sweat began to prickle at his hairline. He wanted Hakyeon to back up, stop talking, he didn’t want— to be in this moment. “You threw your humanity away to become a monster.”

Hakyeon’s face twisted, and it was so odd, that Taekwoon could interpret the emotion— frustration. But it did not deny that it had turned willingly, had left the daylight of its own accord. “I’m an Elimia, from the start I wanted— to be the right kind of vampire,” it said instead, something straining through its tone, but this, Taekwoon couldn’t place. It didn’t really matter.

“This isn’t kindergarten,” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon was so near now Taekwoon’s hand was flat on its chest, and the lack of a heartbeat, of any breathing, was making shivers run along his skin. “You don’t get points for intention.”

“Why not?” Hakyeon asked, face open, eyes searching. “It is enough for the Balance, it is why I am as strong as I am.” 

Taekwoon’s upper lip curled, and for a second, Hakyeon’s eyes flickered down. “I am not going to give you slack for only killing a handful of humans, as opposed to many,” Taekwoon said. “You’re still a killer.”

“And so are you,” Hakyeon said stoutly, and Taekwoon shook his head slightly, because no, vampires did not count. They were nothing. Hakyeon frowned, nose crinkling. It was so near, leaning against Taekwoon’s bracing hand. Taekwoon realized he could feel faint warmth, bleeding through Hakyeon’s sweater. He could have sworn it had been icy before. “You are, you’re a killer.”

No. “Vampires bring nothing but death,” Taekwoon hissed, his anger making some of the fear of being so near an agitated vampire dissipate. “So you deserve death.”

Hakyeon’s mouth twisted sharply, and Taekwoon expected to see fangs, but when it spoke again, its teeth were still blunt. “What about those of us that don’t kill humans for food? Like me?” Hakyeon asked. “How can you justify it?”

Taekwoon didn’t know why they were still running around in this loop. “You’ve killed in the past,” he said, wondering how many times he would have to repeat it. 

“But I don’t do it _now_ , and I have no intention of doing so in the future. Will you kill me for a crime I committed over three hundred years ago?” Hakyeon asked. Its voice was going a little high, and it grated, making the hair on the back of Taekwoon’s neck prickle. “Why do you get to play judge and jury and executioner?”

Taekwoon shook his head, because no, no that wasn’t what this was about. It wasn’t about Taekwoon, it was about _them_ , and what they were. For the sake of humanity, vampires needed to be gone, because they were threats, because they were monsters. Taekwoon was simply one of many taking up that task. “We just _had this conversation_ ,” Taekwoon said, his voice matching Hakyeon’s in rising volume. “How many times do I have to— vampires— you—”

“Vampires kill humans for food,” Hakyeon snapped out, cutting him off. Its breath ghosted over Taekwoon’s face, surprisingly warm. It smelled like mint. “Pointless deaths, senseless to you. I _understand_ that, kitten.”

“Then why do you keep making me say it?” Taekwoon asked, and he pushed at Hakyeon’s chest, just in experimentation, and the vampire, despite its slimness, did not budge. Taekwoon was beginning to feel short of breath from being cornered the way he was. He had a feeling if he tried to slide out sideways, Hakyeon would simply block him. 

“Because you aren’t answering my current questions,” Hakyeon said, not reacting to Taekwoon’s gentle pushing, not getting the fucking hint. “How can you justify your hatred for me, specifically? I’ve done nothing to you.”

Taekwoon stopped pushing in favor of giving Hakyeon a scathing look. “You almost killed Hongbin,” he said incredulously, “you’re threatening us. Even now, following me around— I’m not fucking fooled, Hakyeon, I know if we don’t cooperate, in the end, you’ll kill us.” Did this creature think him that stupid, that gullible. 

“I’m an Elimia,” Hakyeon said again, like it was some amulet that could protect from the truth. “I don’t kill senselessly. I don’t _want_ to hurt you, Taekwoon.” 

“But you will,” Taekwoon said, snarling. “You will, when you don’t get your way in the end. Tell me I’m wrong, Hakyeon. Say it.” 

Hakyeon did not say it, he didn’t say anything for a long moment, holding Taekwoon’s gaze under a heavy scowl. He seemed to be searching for something in Taekwoon’s expression, and whatever he found had him making a low growl of frustration that in turn made Taekwoon’s stomach swoop sickly in fear. Hakyeon moved, grabbing Taekwoon’s wrist in one hand, the other going between their bodies to Taekwoon’s waist, smoothly pulling Taekwoon’s dagger out of its sheath. It hissed, as the silver made contact with its skin, and fear flashed through Taekwoon when the dagger’s surface caught the light. But before Taekwoon could think to struggle, Hakyeon had, surprisingly, pressed the hilt of the dagger against Taekwoon’s palm. Taekwoon curled his fingers around it, the blade hefty in his hand, and Hakyeon’s own hands dropped to rest as its side as it fell back a bit, leaving its defense fully open.

“If you want to play it this way, if you really think I’m a monster who is only going to kill you in the end, that I deserve to die— then do it, Taekwoon. Kill me,” Hakyeon said, and there was fang now, just a bit, peeking out as Hakyeon spoke. Its hands were still held at its sides, fisted, but resolutely down. Taekwoon didn’t move, the dagger held in his hand, hovering at around chest level. He knew this was some sort of test, that Hakyeon wouldn’t really let him kill him, surely—

Hakyeon stepped closer once more, taking Taekwoon’s wrist again and moving it so the tip of the dagger was pressed against its own chest, the blade catching on the fabric of Hakyeon’s sweater. Taekwoon was frozen, eyes locked on where the blade had ripped a little hole in the sweater, if he pushed the dagger forward, slid it between Hakyeon’s ribs, into its heart, Hakyeon would be— gone. Dead, properly dead, body limp on the pavement, under this harsh yellow light.

It was a trick. It was a lie. “No,” Taekwoon whispered. He felt cold. 

Hakyeon growled again and grabbed Taekwoon’s jaw, forcing his face up, and Taekwoon gasped sharply at the contact, his hand faltering, lowering some. “Look at me,” Hakyeon said harshly, but there was no glamour in the command. Taekwoon obeyed him anyway. Their faces were so close, Hakyeon’s eyes boring into his own when Taekwoon met them, the hand at his jaw not letting him squirm away. God, he wanted to. “Kill me. Look me in the eyes and kill me. Kill me for things I haven’t done yet, kill me for the lives I took centuries ago, when I was newborn and out of my mind.”

Taekwoon tried to slide away, from between Hakyeon and the lamppost, but Hakyeon’s hand was still on his jaw, fingertips bruising. Bruising and warm. “I don’t care how long ago it was,” Taekwoon said, but it was harder, when he was staring into Hakyeon’s uptilted eyes. “I don’t care if you were lost in the bloodlust— you chose to turn. You chose to become that.” 

Hakyeon was— breathing, chest heaving with it. Perhaps it was an instinct thing, an old instinct. Anger, bringing back with it ghosts of the past self. The part of Hakyeon that this Hakyeon had murdered. “I did,” Hakyeon said, tone evening out, volume closer to normal. Taekwoon could hear the strain of it. “I asked to be turned. I was dying of fever, and I was afraid.”

For a second, a flash, Taekwoon thought of Jaehwan, staring down into the abyss of death, but he quickly shoved the thought out of his head. Jaehwan wasn’t turning to save himself. Jaehwan wasn’t weak. Not like Hakyeon had been, apparently. Running from death, at the cost of the lives of others. “Afraid of death?” Taekwoon asked, contempt heavy in his voice.

“No, of hell,” Hakyeon said, softly, and Taekwoon blinked. It let go of Taekwoon’s jaw, eyes lowering for a flicker before coming right back up to meet Taekwoon’s. There was a new stiffness to its posture, the set of its jaw. “I’ve always liked boys.”

Taekwoon felt his lips part in silent surprise, unconscious. He knew his eyes had widened for a flicker. “You— oh,” Taekwoon said lamely, the darker emotions in his mind scattering in the midst of that revelation, leaving him feeling wrong-footed and unsure.

Hakyeon’s chin lowered a little, posture a bit less defensive. “Things weren’t always the way they are now,” he murmured, eyes slightly unfocused, like he was seeing things long since lost. “My mother still loved me— my father did not. I wrote to her, even after I turned. She never knew I became what it did.” He seemed to shake himself a little, looking at Taekwoon with new clarity as he tilted his head. “Do your parents know—” He cut off as he caught himself, looking a little stricken.

Taekwoon didn’t even let himself think about it, any of it, brain cutting it off before he could get there. The anger that surged up because of Hakyeon bringing up his family _again_ was lost amidst all the other emotions tumbling around Taekwoon’s brain. He didn’t want— “No,” Taekwoon said, oddly numb for how many things, feelings, were flashing through him right now. “No matter what the question was— the answer is no.” 

Hakyeon bit his bottom lip, eyes searching over Taekwoon’s face. “Kitten,” he whispered, “will you condemn me?”

There was no gut reaction, no immediate response ringing through his mind. Taekwoon opened his mouth, but the _yes_ didn’t come. “You’re a vampire,” he said instead. Because it was the only thing that mattered. 

“I am,” Hakyeon said, pressing nearer, and Taekwoon turned the blade, so it wouldn’t accidentally cut into Hakyeon’s chest. “And no matter what other circumstances there are— no matter how I’ve chosen to live my life, the choices I’ve made— I’m damned?”

Hakyeon’s eyes were still searching, staring at Taekwoon, through him. There was a slight hitch in his brow, the only emotion on his soft face. “You’re a vampire,” Taekwoon repeated, desperation bleeding into his tone, and Hakyeon winced, just slightly. Taekwoon turned his face away, unable to hold eye contact any longer. He looked to the side, down, at the pavement. “This has to stop.”

Hakyeon took Taekwoon’s wrist again, very gently, and rotated it so the blade was pressing against his chest once more. Taekwoon might have moved it again, but Hakyeon held it there, now, with both hands, trapped between their bodies. “You kill vampires to protect humans— but I don't kill humans for food,” Hakyeon said, not letting this go, and Taekwoon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will himself out of this moment. “So what will you kill me for, Taekwoon? As a punishment for not being human?”

“I'm not going to kill you,” Taekwoon whispered, blinking his eyes open again. He tried to pull his hand back, but Hakyeon held it fast. 

“Well, but you'll damn me for it?” Hakyeon asked softly, leaning forward to catch Taekwoon’s eyes again.

“I don’t have a choice,” Taekwoon said, hating how wretched his own voice sounded. He worked to look at Hakyeon’s open face, his clear eyes. “You’re a _vampire_.” It was simply the way it was. It— it just—

“Kill me then,” Hakyeon whispered, and his face was so close, too close. 

No. He— Hakyeon was a monster, a threat, and he needed to die, but Taekwoon— he couldn’t— “No,” Taekwoon said harshly. When did he become so weak. Hakyeon was frowning, opening his mouth again as his fingers tightened around Taekwoon’s wrist. “ _No_.”

Hakyeon was pressing his wrist down, and Taekwoon could feel his sweater giving under the sharpened silver. “Why not?” The silver made contact with Hakyeon’s skin, burning, and Hakyeon hissed. 

“No, stop,” Taekwoon gasped.

“Taekwoon—”

Taekwoon let the dagger go, and it clattered down onto the pavement loudly, thankfully missing both of their feet. Hakyeon blinked down at it in surprise, still holding Taekwoon’s wrist. 

“I said stop,” Taekwoon whispered. There was a mild burn showing through the slice in Hakyeon’s sweater, from the silver blade touching him, but it was healing quickly. Taekwoon touched his fingertips to it before he could stop himself, and Hakyeon gasped.

No.

Taekwoon yanked his hand back, quickly ducking away from Hakyeon, putting space between them finally, finally. He heaved in cool air, wishing he would stop feeling so flushed, that it could calm his racing heart. Hakyeon didn’t stop him, holding his hands to the healing burn on his chest, head bowed. 

Would the vampire really have let Taekwoon kill him, Taekwoon wondered. Probably not. No. No, it wouldn’t have. This had been some sort of test. He wondered to what end. 

Taekwoon skittered close for a moment, snatching up his dagger and then darting back again, eyeing Hakyeon warily, but the vampire did not move. Taekwoon slid the dagger back into its sheath, feeling a wave of relief as he did so.

Hakyeon glanced at him, still standing under the lamplight, while Taekwoon was backing into the shadows. “Why won’t you kill me, Taekwoon?” Hakyeon whispered, and Taekwoon’s face twisted. He— he wanted to go home, pack this memory away, pack the memories of _Hakyeon_ away, bury them. He wanted this to go back to being easy. 

Taekwoon swallowed thickly. “I don’t want to.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is neither particularly long nor exciting. I didn’t mean for it to go so long between updates but shit happens and I’ve been damn busy. 
> 
> (I FORGOT TO POST THIS HERE I'M A BIG DUMB OMG)

Wonshik sat at the high island in their kitchen, the white of the tiles blinding as they peeked out from underneath a rainbow explosion of note pads and scattered post it notes. Idly, he swept aside a slip of cream paper that was in the way of his mouse so he could close the website he was on in favor of going through another. He felt like he had been sitting on this hard wooden chair for days, rather than hours. Which was funny, considering how rapid time usually moved for the undead. Nothing slowed the mind down quite like boredom, but like his maker and sibling, Wonshik was too stubborn to give up. Not this early in the game anyway.

Sanghyuk was the one with magical knowledge, the one with the phantom spark in his fingertips, while Wonshik had always been more into science, research, gathering data. And in lieu of chasing after the spell itself, Wonshik had the idea that, perhaps, the key to unlocking that particular secret would be to chase Jaehwan himself. If he could find information on Jaehwan’s family, on who he really was, what his life had been like, his schooling, it would perhaps shed some light on the subject of the spell.

But Wonshik couldn’t find any information on Jaehwan. It didn’t help that he didn’t know Jaehwan’s last name, didn’t know _any_ of the hunters’ last names. Didn’t even know if the first names they’d been given were for true. And since Jaehwan had magical blood— it was impossible to know how old he was. He looked sixteen, but gauging on Hongbin and Taekwoon, he was probably actually in his early twenties. Probably.

Wonshik rather thought his best bet would be to go through online copies of yearbooks from the local high schools, starting three years ago and working back. He figured he just had to find one of the boys, and the rest would follow. Surely. But there were quite a handful of schools in the vicinity and because he was fuzzy on their ages, it was giving him a very wide range of data to peruse. Not that he had anything but time on his hands. However, this was quickly becoming tedious, scanning page after page of names and faces. None of them were familiar. This plan would only work if they were from around here; none of the hunters seemed like they’d come from money, so he couldn’t imagine they’d have had the resources to pick up and move very far. But stranger things had happened.

His eyes fell to the side, where Hongbin’s phone sat, plugged into his laptop and charging. The screen was cracked, a spider’s web of lines, but it still worked, and it was not password protected, a fact that had surprised but pleased Wonshik when he’d first discovered it. Quickly though, he had realized why Hongbin hadn’t bothered to password protect it. The kid had no social media accounts, and no saved contacts. His inboxes were all wiped clean, as was his internet search history. He had many missed calls from myriad different numbers, but when Wonshik had tried to call a few back, he found they’d come from advertising companies, people hocking iffy insurance plans and used cars.

Dead ends everywhere, and Wonshik sighed. He’d give Hongbin his phone back, eventually. Probably sooner rather than later. But Hakyeon would be annoyed about it. Wonshik sensed the more time that stretched on without progress, the more cantankerous Hakyeon was going to become. 

The screen of Hongbin’s phone lit up, a phone call incoming. Wonshik peered at the number, it was one he thought he had seen on the _missed calls_ list, but not one he had tried calling back. It might be another spam call, or perhaps Hongbin’s workplace, if he had one— but it was somewhat late at night for either of those types of calls. And Taekwoon wouldn’t call a phone that he knew was missing. 

Wonshik picked the phone up, nail catching along a scratch on the back of the case before he decided he had nothing to lose and a lot to gain. So he swiped to answer the call, murmuring a soft, “Hello?” He knew the static of the connection would mask the stranger qualities of his voice.

“Oh— I— hello?” The voice was high and feminine, unsure. Wonshik sat up a little straighter. “I’m sorry, I— who is this?”

Wonshik paused, but only for a moment. “My name is Wonshik,” he said carefully. “I found this phone on the street a few days ago, and there’s no numbers saved in the contacts; I wasn’t sure who to get ahold of to give it back. Who is this?”

“Oh, this is— it’s my son’s phone,” the woman said, and she sighed. “It isn’t like him to be so irresponsible.” 

Family. A mother at the least. Wonshik’s brain was running quickly in short snaps. “I’d like to give the phone back to him if at all possible,” he said. “Is there anyone else I can contact to get ahold of him?”

He could sense her nodding. “His roommate, I’ll— wait a moment and I’ll find the number for you?” There was already the sound of shuffling.

“Sure,” Wonshik said easily, listening to the gentle sound of her breathing. Could he glamour her over the phone— possibly, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to try and alert her that something was off.

Her voice came back, a little flustered. “I found it, do you have a pen?” 

“Yes,” Wonshik lied, and listened as she listed off a number that was surely Taekwoon’s.

“My son’s name is Hongbin,” she said once she finished relaying the number, “thank you for returning the phone to him—”

“I’m sorry,” Wonshik interrupted gently, “but can I ask where your son lives? We’ll have to meet, is the thing.”

“He’s down in the valley, by the Blue Hills— where did you find the phone?” 

Wonshik ignored the question. “Ah, I live a bit far from there, I don’t suppose I could leave the phone with you instead?” 

She stuttered, taken a bit off guard seemingly by his abruptness. “I live fairly far north, near the Clearwater Dam,” she said. Suspicion was edging into her voice. “If you’re nearer to me—”

“No,” Wonshik murmured. “I’m not, actually. I’ll call his roommate and work something out with them.”

“Oh, alright,” she said slowly, the words lilting almost questioningly. 

“I’ll do that right now,” Wonshik said, “thank you, Mrs—”

“Kim,” she finished for him. “And I should be thanking you.”

“It’s no trouble,” he murmured, and hung up before she could say any more. 

Clearwater Dam, Wonshik thought. It was no wonder he hadn’t been able to find any information on Hongbin, if that was where he originally hailed from. Or the others. It was over an hour north of here, and there had to be hundreds of schools between them. Wonshik’s search would have never gotten that far out.

But now he knew. A location, and a name. Hongbin, Hongbin Kim. He minimized all the windows on his laptop, opening a new search page so he could see which schools were around the Dam, and if any of their hunters had been in attendance.

——

Hongbin stood by the living room window, peering out over their dimly lit front yard. In the weakened light of their porch fixture the grass looked even deader than it truly was. The house wards were rustling, a vague, background annoyance, that served to constantly remind them that Sanghyuk was still lurking around. 

Behind Hongbin, Jaehwan sat on the couch, legs tucked up to his chest as he zoned out. He wouldn’t tell Hongbin what Sanghyuk had said to him, but whatever had transpired, it had left Jaehwan wrong footed and thoughtful. The image of Sanghyuk’s large hands on Jaehwan’s narrow shoulders, his face nuzzling against Jaehwan’s ear as he’d whispered, was going to be permanently etched into Hongbin’s brain. Better his than Taekwoon’s, he supposed. Though he knew Taekwoon was going to pitch a fit when he found out. Possessive where he had no right to be.

Shadows were thrown outside as a car turned onto the block, and Hongbin tensed, not relaxing even when the car slowed in front of their house, pulled into their driveway, heralding Taekwoon’s safe return. Hongbin wasn’t sure he’d really thought Hakyeon would spirit Taekwoon away, but given what had just happened with Sanghyuk, it was looking like a valid concern. He wasn’t sure what they would do, if that happened. 

The driver’s side door opened, and Taekwoon stepped out, seemingly all in one piece. With the interior of the car illuminated, Hongbin could see Hakyeon wasn’t in the passenger seat. Where he was, then, was anybody’s guess. Hongbin turned away from the window, looking back at Jaehwan. “Taekwoon’s back,” he said unnecessarily. The sound of the car door slamming would have tipped Jaehwan off well enough.

“Is he—” Jaehwan began, but the front door was already opening sharply, Taekwoon slinking in. Jaehwan jerked, his hand coming up to touch his ear, the one Sanghyuk had whispered into. As if Taekwoon would be able to see the ghost of Sanghyuk’s touch there. 

The door had swung open with a violence that had Hongbin already bracing, but Taekwoon closed it with gentleness, and his eyes were closed when he leaned back against the battered wood, letting out a sigh that Hongbin would have classified as shakey. 

There was a pause, where they all hung in the balance, still, waiting, and Hongbin felt like he had been transported back to the previous night, on the cusp of the same argument, hashed out and fallen on deaf ears over and over. But the Taekwoon of tonight seemed less, somehow, than usual, broad shoulders rounded and head tipped to the ground. Hongbin didn’t think this diminishment would render Taekwoon any more malleable to their reasonings, simply less likely to lash back. If they tried, he’d no doubt end up with a door closing in his face again. Just more quietly.

As Hongbin had that thought Taekwoon’s eyelids lifted, though he didn’t push off from the door. Taekwoon looked to Jaehwan, kneeling on the couch, his hand hovering up near his tainted ear but no longer touching it. He looked horribly guilty. Hongbin hated it. 

“Glad you made it back in one piece,” Hongbin said in Taekwoon’s direction, but the words lacked any bite. They also lacked any warm sincerity. They may as well have not been spoken, but the silence had begun to grate on Hongbin, that strange electrical pull between Taekwoon and Jaehwan shunting Hongbin onto the fringes in his own house.

Hongbin _was_ glad Taekwoon was back, and in one piece, but that was beside the point.

Taekwoon’s lashes fluttered, and he sighed, again, seeming to deflate all the more for the lessening of air in his lungs. “What did you mean,” he murmured in his usual soft tone, “when you said the vampires were getting more aggressive?”

“Oh, now you want to hear what I have to say?” Hongbin asked. “If you hadn’t left, you’d have seen what I meant yourself.” These words too, lacked any real bite. It was like Hongbin was following a script, an old one, the lines so repeated they were etched in his bones. “I’m not going to bother calling you, next time. We just wanted to warn you.”

“Next time, I’ll be here,” Taekwoon whispered. Hongbin’s eyebrows rose of their own volition. That would be interesting, but not in a good way. Interesting like a car crash. Airbag crushing against ribs and glass digging into skin. 

Hongbin didn't say that. “Sure you will.”

Taekwoon stared down at the carpet, pockmarked with stains and thinning spots. If they had money, they’d replace it. If they had even more money, they’d put hardwood floors in. It was always an if. Never a when. 

“What did you mean?” Taekwoon asked again, voice even smaller. He looked at Hongbin from across the room, and there was something in his eyes that gave Hongbin pause, made him wonder if tonight he should put the barbs in a drawer. 

“I think he meant more persistent— persuasive,” Jaehwan said meekly. He shifted, sitting back down and bringing his legs out so his feet could rest on the floor properly. 

Taekwoon blinked slowly at Hongbin, a strange sort of lack of comprehension in his eyes. Hongbin rubbed the back of his own neck, felt the prickly hair there. “Yeah,” he said lamely, “that’s what I meant. I guess.”

Another slow blink. “Tell me.” 

Hongbin scowled over the order, but Jaehwan was already talking. “Hakyeon’s other child, the— the tall one, came to the door to talk to me. Trying to get me to tell him the spell, where his master failed. Don’t worry though, nothing— nothing happened, we didn’t tell him anything.” Jaehwan was looking at Taekwoon as he said it, but when he finished, and Taekwoon stared at him, he looked away, at his fraying jeans. There was so much he had left unsaid, and Hongbin knew why. But it left the two of them with a secret, and it was a secret that was also a puzzle. The whys of Sanghyuk’s behavior, his gentleness when he’d had Jaehwan in his sights, under his hands. It was going to be on them to dissect it without Taekwoon’s help, his anger too high of a cost to pay for his input. 

“That doesn’t seem aggressive,” Taekwoon was saying in response to Jaehwan’s words, the words on target even though when Taekwoon spoke them, he seemed to be very far away. His mind was somewhere else.

“The manner of it was just a bit more direct than we’re used to,” Hongbin said and Taekwoon swivelled to stare at him instead. It was a slightly unnerving stare. Taekwoon was good at that, but it was normally deliberate— this wasn’t. This was the stare of a man who had seen a ghost. A man who had _just_ seen a ghost. “Taek, what happened on the hunt?”

Blink. Blink. “Nothing,” Taekwoon said. Hongbin knew him well enough to know it wasn’t exactly a lie— more like an untruth Taekwoon was trying to make true by saying it. He did that a lot. Mainly with his feelings in regards to Jaehwan. And his brother. And vampires. Really, Taekwoon just had a problem with _feelings_.

Which really made Hongbin wonder what had happened on the hunt. Because it had probably involved feelings. And Hakyeon. 

Aggressive. Persistent. _Persuasive_. 

“Taekwoon,” Jaehwan sighed, and it was inhuman, somehow. Like a breeze rustling through golden autumn leaves. Jaehwan shifted forward, as if he was going to stand. “Will you—”

“I’m not going to hunt for a few nights.” Taekwoon moved before Jaehwan could, pushing off from the door and stepping towards the hallway, signalling an end to this conversation. “There’s too many VCF around right now, and there’s no point anyway if I can’t shake the vampire tail.” 

Taekwoon’s face was averted from them, so he missed the way Hongbin and Jaehwan looked at one another, eyebrows raised in silent mutual surprise. 

——

Sanghyuk’s leg swung in the empty air, the bumpy branch digging cruelly into his spine, bark leaving imprints on his ass and the backs of his thighs. He hadn’t trusted the rope of the old tire swing to hold his weight, and laying on rooftops under the open starry sky was so— well, it was very Wonshik. It was for a daydreamer. Nightdreamer. Whichever of the two a vampire could be. Sanghyuk wasn’t really either. 

So he laid on a tree branch, thick and solid, lounging like a misshapen jungle cat. The tree’s leaves were mostly yellow and brown, curling in on themselves in death. The moonlight didn't break through them, not yet.

He’d scraped his palms against the winter-rough bark as he’d climbed, dry and gritty. The sensation had done nothing to wipe away the memory of Jaehwan trembling beneath his hands, the sorcerer winter-rough in his own way. Sanghyuk squeezed his hands into fists, until his knuckles went pale yellow, and then let the fingers relax once more. The small abrasions from the climb had healed. The tingling in his fingertips from Jaehwan remained. 

“Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon’s voice said from below, and Sanghyuk let his head loll to the side in answer, to show that he hadn’t fallen asleep on the job. He hadn’t even heard Hakyeon walk up, not a whisper of sound from the browning grass or the graveyard of leaves over it. But he’d heard Taekwoon’s car, the slamming of the door. He’d been waiting. “What are you doing up there?”

“Thinking,” Sanghyuk said. He sensed rather than heard Hakyeon’s huff of irritation, and he grinned up at the canopy of gold above himself. 

“I meant why, why are you up there?” Hakyeon clarified. “And come down.”

Sanghyuk sighed, and so did the tree, leaves brushing against each other in the light breeze. It would be cold for a human. But Sanghyuk felt the cold simply as a fact, rather than a sensation. He sat up, knowing flakes of bark were probably stuck to his jacket and pants, peppered in his hair, and not much caring. Hakyeon peered up at him from between his boots, eyes seemingly glowing in the dark. In the overlong grass, he too looked like a misshapen jungle cat. 

Sanghyuk pushed off, floating in the air for a blink before his feet hit ground, silent as a thought. His maker still had to peer up at him when he straightened, but less so. “I wanted to give them a little space,” Sanghyuk said, in answer to Hakyeon’s question. “And there is nowhere else to sit, aside from the swing, which didn’t suit me.” 

Hakyeon hummed, eyes going to said swing, then the swaying grass beneath it. There was a tear in his lovely cream sweater, a bloodless gash just under Hakyeon’s left collarbone. Through the slash in the cashmere Sanghyuk could see smooth golden skin peeking through. 

Sanghyuk reached out, touching the edges of the tear, noted how clean they were, made with a blade rather than snagged on something jagged. Deliberate rather than an accident. “Your hunter took a swipe at you?” Sanghyuk asked, brow arching. 

“No.” Hakyeon twisted gently, so Sanghyuk’s fingertips lost contact with the little tear, and Sanghyuk got the hint and dropped his hand. “The opposite, actually. I gave him a chance, and he didn’t take it.” Hakyeon‘s lashes lowered prettily, his right hand coming up to lightly place fingertips over the tear himself. The almost reverent touch reminded Sanghyuk of the way a young girl would handle her first gifted rose. Then Hakyeon’s eyelids raised and the jungle cat was back. “What happened while I was with him?”

Sanghyuk eyed the hole in Hakyeon’s sweater, letting himself wonder what exactly had happened for an indulgent beat, before turning his attention to the house, the ambient glow coming from the windows. “I spoke to the sorcerer,” Sanghyuk said. “Jaehwan. Just to see if I could get a feel for him, maybe get him to slip up. Try and convince him to take our deal.”

Hakyeon didn’t pick at his choice, didn’t question why, if he had failed, did Sanghyuk think he could succeed. He simply asked, “And?”

Sanghyuk gave a one shouldered shrug. “I got more of a feel for him, definitely. He is guarded, he isn’t going to slip up, he’s too sharp.” He licked his lips. “But I think he will yield. In the end.”

“Yield,” Hakyeon repeated, gaze keen. “Yield to the deal, or to you?”

Were he human, Sanghyuk might have turned a little pink. But as it was, his skin remained corpse-pale, and he said equably, “Well, both. I hope.”

The corners of Hakyeon’s mouth were tight. “Be careful, Sanghyuk. You’re playing with fire,” he murmured, and Sanghyuk looked pointedly at the little patch of skin showing through the wound in Hakyeon’s sweater. Hakyeon’s only response to that was to sigh, heavily. It sounded like a surrender. “You’re so stubborn.”

“I learned from the master,” Sanghyuk said, grinning widely over his own joke. Hakyeon slid him a glare.

“Go home,” Hakyeon said, peeved even as Sanghyuk continued to chortle. “I’ll babysit them until sunup.”

“I’d like to stay, actually,” Sanghyuk said, and Hakyeon looked at him in mild surprise. “Wonshik texted me to say he’s possibly got a lead. I think you should go see what he’s dragged up.” Sanghyuk also just liked the peace of being here, the house’s wards fizzling against him, and the soft, indistinct sounds of the humans inside. He wanted to get his head together. He wouldn’t be able to do that elsewhere. 

Hakyeon’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t text me.”

“Because he didn’t want to distract you from sweetums,” Sanghyuk replied, and Hakyeon puffed up so fast Sanghyuk expected to see steam shoot out of his ears. “He knew I’d tell you once you came back here.”

Hakyeon growled. “Don’t leave until dawn is imminent,” he ordered, and then he was gone. His feet made no more noise as they moved over the ground than they had when he’d arrived.

Sanghyuk sighed, and the tree did too. He scraped his palms on its winter-rough bark as he climbed back up. The abrasions healed. The tingling of Jaehwan’s magic remained. 

Sanghyuk wondered, idly, as he leaned back on his sturdy branch, how long his lips would tingle for, if he pressed his mouth to Jaehwan’s.

——

Taekwoon’s door was closed, but light poured out from the crack at the bottom. The beast still stirred. Jaehwan touched the door lightly, called out, “Taekwoon?”

It took a few seconds of patience, but then the door was opening, swinging away from Jaehwan’s fingertips. Taekwoon had changed into his sleep wear, a simple black tank top and grey sweatpants, his hair a little askew from the swap. It reminded Jaehwan of a juvenile raven after a crash. 

Taekwoon glanced over Jaehwan’s shoulder, looking for the ever-present shadow, and Jaehwan said, “Hongbin’s eating. I just wanted to see if you were alright. You seemed—” _like something had gone terribly wrong_ “—a little off.”

“Mm,” Taekwoon said, not insulting Jaehwan’s intelligence by denying it. “Everything is off. Everything is wrong.” His mouth pressed into a grim line, the familiar weight of self-loathing dragging his lashes down, gaze to the floor. Jaehwan recognized it well. He just didn’t know why it had made a resurgence. Though he could guess.

“We’re here, you know,” Jaehwan said, a feeble offering. He knew Taekwoon would never confess his sins to them. “I know the three of us don’t agree on everything, but we love you. I love you. And we’re at your side.”

Taekwoon swallowed, gaze still on Jaehwan’s socks. The right one was nearly worn all the way through at the toes. “I know, Jae,” he murmured. “And you?”

Jaehwan frowned. “Me?”

Taekwoon’s eyes lifted, glittering black in the low light. “You seem off too.”

Jaehwan looked back at Taekwoon, and they shared a moment where both of them knew something had happened with the other, that neither was going to divulge their secrets, and that both parties weren’t going to voice any of this aloud. Jaehwan’s ear tickled, and he fought the desire to rub the sensation away. Vampires didn’t need to breathe to survive, but they needed to in order to talk. Jaehwan wouldn’t have expected the air to be warm.

“I think I’m going to be alright,” Jaehwan lied. 

Taekwoon nodded, a little. “Me too,” Taekwoon lied.

Their eyes met. Neither of them mentioned it.

——

Almost as soon as Hakyeon was opening his grand front door, Wonshik was calling out his name. His voice was low and rough, and it reverberated beautifully off the walls of their home. How different it was, from Taekwoon’s feather soft lilt. The hunter’s voice was tender rose petals concealing wicked thorns, while Wonshik’s was gravel crunching underfoot masking marshmallow fluff. 

The memory of silver on his skin burned. Hakyeon wondered when his preferences had changed.

“I’m coming,” Hakyeon called back, following the echoes of Wonshik’s voice into the kitchen, where Wonshik had laid himself out a nice spread. 

Hakyeon looked over the notebooks and post-its, pencils and multi-colored pens, and rather thought they were scattered around for aesthetic rather than function. Wonshik was like that. He’d probably gotten it from Hakyeon.

Wonshik grinned up at him from his perch on a stool at the island, and it was less joy and more something feral. Hakyeon didn’t return it, understanding. “You found something important,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Not much, but a start,” Wonshik said. His fingertips tapped lightly on Hongbin’s phone, resting beside his laptop. “I found the high school Taekwoon graduated from. It’s up by the Clearwater Dam, in a shitty little hole in the road of a town called Hope. A lot of the kids in his graduating class looked pretty damn rough— and he graduated five years ago, because I can tell you want to know—”

“So he’s— twenty-two?” Hakyeon asked, mostly thinking aloud. The thought was slightly mollifying. He had known Taekwoon was young, but the harshness of his demeanor— Hakyeon would have thought he was nearer to thirty.

“Probably something like that,” Wonshik said, gaze measured. “I haven't done any more searching on him specifically, I was trying to see if I could find Jaehwan or Hongbin on the records of the same school, but so far no dice.”

“They may have gone to another school,” Hakyeon said absently. He bent to look at Wonshik’s laptop screen, to better study the rows of small pictures, names neatly typed beneath then. Taekwoon’s picture didn't stand out, not a bit, but there he was, a little softer in the jawline, hair unevenly cut, but unmistakably him. Hakyeon could see what Wonshik meant about the kids, they all had that slightly jagged edge to them, that said they had lived their school lives less concerned with varsity sports and more worried about if they were going to be able to eat breakfast the next day.

 _Kitten_ , Hakyeon thought, wondering what his life had been like, what had carved him into the person he was. 

“Hongbin has ties to the Dam, which is why I started to look in the area,” Wonshik said, and Hakyeon was barely listening. “And there aren’t any other schools super nearby, and the kids from Hope, uh, probably wouldn’t fit in elsewhere anyway.”

Hakyeon hummed, straightening. It was a start. It was a lead. It was more than they’d had before. 

Wonshik’s eyes had lowered, catching on the tear in Hakyeon’s sweater. “What happened there?” he asked.

Hakyeon covered the tear, turning away. “Keep digging,” he whispered.

——

The sky was grey and pale, with that semi-translucent quality that reminded Taekwoon of skim milk. He thought he’d woken early, that the sun hadn’t broken over the horizon yet, but underneath the cool light coming in through his blinds, his alarm clock read out in blazing red numbers that it was nearly noon. It was simply going to be one of those days, where the sky and the trees and the world just never fully woke up.

He laid there, legs tucked up so they wouldn’t stray from under the warmth of his blankets. The birds that dotted the scenery outside were black, and not delicate at all. Probably ravens. He knew he should get up, pull himself together, but he was afraid to break the spell, afraid to face whatever waited for him once the cold air hit. So for a while, he watched the birds circling in the air through his window, waiting to see if the grey beyond them would solidify into clouds, or dissipate and give way to sharp blue. It didn’t, and eventually, the birds went away, and Taekwoon’s alarm went off, an awful, banshee shriek of a sound. 

He reached out from under the covers, switching it off, and the cold air immediately raised goosebumps along the bare skin of his arm. It seemed to grip his heart, and for a moment he was overwhelmed with a surge of anxiety, and the urge to cry. But he swiftly rolled upright, swinging his legs out of bed and standing, and tamped it all back down. He was irresistibly reminded of old war movies, the motion of packing gunpowder into a musket, readying for the blast. But it was all he could do, tamp it down, pack it away. The explosion wasn’t happening today.

Taekwoon tugged a light cardigan on, because the house was chilly, but he forwent socks in some show of penance. His phone blinked sleepily at him, and he took it with him into the kitchen. The whiteness of the room greeted him, like a winter snowscape. He grabbed a can of coffee out of the fridge before sitting at the table, already regretting his lack of socks. 

The pantry door was closed, as it should be. And the house seemed quiet, which would denote Hongbin was still sleeping, as he should be. It was a cold comfort, to know that some things hadn’t utterly fallen out of alignment.

Taekwoon closed his eyes. There it was, ugly in the cold, sterile light. The thing Taekwoon had been trying so hard not to look at. What he’d done. How he couldn’t undo it.

He’d let a vampire live, last night.

It didn't matter, Taekwoon told himself, Hakyeon wasn’t a danger. The vampire didn’t kill people, not anymore. So it had said. Taekwoon didn't know if it was the truth.

He’d let a vampire live. 

Because Taekwoon hadn’t wanted to kill Hakyeon last night, and didn’t want to now. He didn’t think he would mourn Hakyeon, exactly, if he suddenly stopped coming around, but neither did he think he would feel the better for having been the one to finally bring the vampire’s long life to an end. So it wasn’t that he necessarily wanted Hakyeon to— not be dead. He just hadn’t acted to kill him. Was inaction the same as compliance?

He’d let a vampire live.

Again, he thought of Hakyeon’s body on the ground, blood pooling out from his slim frame and pretty eyes glazed and empty as glass marbles, and found himself shying from the image. It discomfited him. He didn’t like that it discomfited him. Hakyeon was nothing but a vampire, and the loss of him would only mean good things in Taekwoon’s life. Yet even as he had that thought, he felt ashamed. 

He’d let a vampire live.

He’d let _Hakyeon_ live.

They were one and the same, and yet one sentiment felt as drastically different from the other as fire and ice. Though they both burned in their own way. 

Taekwoon opened his eyes. He couldn’t undo it. Even if he got another chance, and slid the silver into Hakyeon’s heart, it wouldn’t change the fact that he’d let him go once. Taekwoon wished he could stop thinking about it. He’d been hurtling through his life, a fighter jet fueled on his hatred of vampires, and now he’d hit a mountainside and it had stopped him with abrupt cartoon comicalness. And in the stillness afterwards, he hated how he couldn’t stop second-guessing everything about the choices he’d made. 

_Why do you get to play judge and jury and executioner?_ Hakyeon had asked, and Taekwoon knew it wasn’t fair for him to play any of those parts, but he never had been. The trial was over. Taekwoon was always the blade. Nothing more. Thoughtless and unbiased, doling out sentences already made. But he couldn’t be a blade, anymore, if he’d made an exception. If he’d become biased. 

He heard Hongbin’s voice hissing in the back of his mind that he had always been biased, and the corners of his mouth tightened. But there was biased and then there was _biased_. Taekwoon hated vampires, but so did most everyone else, they were murderers and the government’s official line was they needed to be exterminated one way or another. So maybe Taekwoon was biased in that, but he sure as fuck wasn’t wrong.

Now, though. Now. Picking and choosing was bias. And it was hypocritical. And Taekwoon didn’t like it. He didn’t want to think of Hakyeon as— as anything but a thing. It was easier. It was meant to be easy. It was meant to be black and white. In every VCF training book it had been as crisp as freshly minted bills. And Taekwoon had read quite a few. Reality had always mirrored those small, printed words. The only part of vampires Taekwoon had ever seen were the bodies they’d dropped like breadcrumbs and the blood smeared across their mouths. That had been, Taekwoon wanted to believe, all that those vampires had ever been. 

But Hakyeon, _Hakyeon_ —

“No,” Taekwoon said, his voice strangled. Somehow the word was still loud and jarring in the silence, and Taekwoon tamped all his thoughts down again, down into the barrel of the musket, down into darkness underneath a little lead bullet, down down down. Maybe he was going to go off, but it wasn’t happening today.

He picked up his can of coffee and opened the tab. The label was done up in autumn colors, warm tones not deterred by the cold light. Taekwoon’s hands looked dead as they wrapped around it, skin so white it looked blue. The coffee was bitter and wonderful on his tongue, and he let the scent of it put him back into his own skin, settling into himself with an efficiency. He reached for his phone, swiping away the email notifications and opening his news app. The headline for the local area was about the VCF setting up office in their county police station, but there was nothing about an attack happening the previous night. Which was good, Taekwoon told himself. Maybe the vampires doing all the killing had left. Maybe they would have peace.

It was good, he thought. It was good. He didn’t have to feel guilty for staying in for a few nights, if things were quiet. 

A few nights in.

The icy walls felt like they were closing in. The packed down gunpowder thoughts sat like a weight inside Taekwoon. 

It was good.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ///tips head back, opens my mouth, screams into the abyss.

Hongbin waited until Taekwoon had left for work to poke his head out of his room, hair mussed from a restless sleep and still in his pajamas. He grabbed the pale blue towel that was hanging from the back of his door before heading out into the main part of the house, the temperature dropping noticeably the moment he left the sanctuary of his room. Taekwoon had left his bedroom door open when he’d gone, and Hongbin glanced into it as he passed. Bed unmade, jeans from yesterday in a pile on the floor. But nothing particularly seemed amiss. 

The house was filled with an unobtrusive sort of sunlight, the kind that made Hongbin expect snow when he peered out of the kitchen window. There was no snow, just a sky the color of an ice rink, and probably as frigid. Hongbin shivered, but he didn’t want to turn the heat up, lest the gas bill suffer for it. He’d warm up at work later.

His eyes went to the closed pantry door, slim and lurking, like another presence in the room. He found himself gripping the bath towel a little tightly as he opened the door, stepping inside the little room before closing the door behind him. They didn’t usually do this, but he needed to talk to Jaehwan, without Taekwoon. 

The frosty light, weak as it was, leaked from the crack at the bottom of the door, and Hongbin knelt, shoving the towel into the space until no light was coming through. Jaehwan probably wouldn’t be hurt by reflected sunlight, would need to be struck full on by a golden beam to, well, die, but Hongbin didn’t want to take any chances. Even indirect winter sunlight probably wouldn’t do Jaehwan any favors. So. 

Once all the light was blocked out by the scratchy towel, the pantry black as pitch, Hongbin fumbled for the little knob of the trap door, tugging it open once he located it. He wasn’t loud, per se, but he certainly wasn’t vampire-stealthy, and the stairs creaked under his weight as he made his way slowly into the basement. 

There was a rustling, the vulnerable sound of blankets shifting, soft breathing. Jaehwan had been woken up by the stairs complaining under Hongbin's weight.

"It's me," Hongbin said, shivering when his feet finally left the wooden stairs and instead pressed to unforgiving concrete. It felt like the warmth was being leached from the pads of his feet. "I'm going to turn the light on."

After a few seconds of smacking at empty air, Hongbin found the light switch, and both he and Jaehwan had to close their eyes against the sudden brightness. Hongbin adjusted first, blinking, but Jaehwan was sleep-heavy, and his eyes stayed squinted shut, nose scrunched and hair a bird's nest in a way that was nothing but endearing. 

"I'm tired," Jaehwan mumbled thickly, rubbing at his eyes which were no doubt stinging. "What time is it? What's going on?"

"It's daytime," Hongbin said simply, and Jaehwan lowered his hands so he could peer at Hongbin through slitted eyes. There were creases on the side of his face from his pillow case. "I needed to talk to you without Taekwoon."

Jaehwan scowled, brow wrinkling and matching his mussed bed. "I could have died, if sunlight got in here."

"But it didn't," Hongbin pointed out. "I'm not stupid. I light proofed the pantry before I opened the door down here." 

"Well, still." Jaehwan sniffed, running a hand through his hair to try and tame it. The grey areas around his temples had become more pronounced in the last few weeks, silver tears in a black night sky. Jaehwan seemed to realize his efforts to fix his hair were pointless, and he let his hands fall to rest atop the blanket. His eyes had finally adjusted and he blinked up at Hongbin. "So," he said, "what do you want to talk about? Are we hatching some other plot? It didn't go so well, last time."

"No." Hongbin came over to sit on the bed, shoving Jaehwan's legs out of the way so he wouldn't sit on them. "I just wanted to know what happened last night. When I was gone, I mean," Hongbin said, and Jaehwan immediately froze. "What did Sanghyuk say to you?"

Jaehwan's gaze lowered. "He just wanted the spell," Jaehwan whispered. "That's all."

"Jaehwan," Hongbin said, knowing there was more, there was something missing, but Jaehwan didn't react. He was staring down at his own hands, resting atop the blanket, with such concentration Hongbin was slightly worried they might catch fire. "What is it? I'm not Taek, you know, I'm not going to flip out."

Jaehwan's gaze flickered back up, the notch in his brow returning. "There's nothing else," he said, cheeks pinkening like he'd been slapped. He'd always been a terrible liar. "You— you didn't tell me. That he'd had his hands on me. I shouldn't have found out like that, it was dangerous, I— I could have gone off."

"Taekwoon didn't want you to find out at all, and he is the boss, you know," Hongbin said, grinning without humor. His dimples were so sharp they may as well have been made by arrow tips. 

Jaehwan's mouth twisted, and like this, he looked unlike himself. Cruel, maybe. A snake with venom. "You aren't protecting me, neither of you are. I'm dying, there's nothing worse that can happen, I deserve to _know_ about these things." 

"I can think of worse things," Hongbin said, and if his voice was a little cold, a little like the grey sky hidden to them by concrete and wood and earth, well. 

The dark twist fell from Jaehwan's face, to be replaced by something much smaller and much softer. His shoulders rounded, and his hand, once again, came up to touch his ear, fiddling with the lobe. He knew Hongbin was right. There were always worse things. 

Hongbin watched Jaehwan's fingers trailing over his own skin, seemingly unconsciously. The memory of Sanghyuk pulling Jaehwan back, just slightly, just enough that he could nuzzle into his ear, whisper sweetly, flashed through Hongbin's mind. The moment of blankness in Jaehwan's pretty eyes as his mind had glazed over, lips parting on a gasp.

"Isn't it strange," Hongbin said slowly, "that vampires can make you want to crawl out of your own skin, and yet, there's something about them that makes you want to ask them to be the ones to skin you?"

This time Jaehwan's blush was from heat, like the flush from a shower, or a jog on a humid day. His hand dropped, and so did his gaze. "Don't," he whispered. "I don't— like the idea of it."

"Don't like the idea of his hands on you?" Hongbin asked, and Jaehwan's ears began to match his cheeks, but his face twisted miserably. 

"He didn't ask me for the spell," he murmured, a shameful confession. "He asked me to let him help me. He said I'm going to die sooner than I think, if I don't— don't get some kind of help." 

Hongbin frowned. This was a different approach. "Let him help you, how?" Hongbin asked, and Jaehwan shrugged, one shouldered and sharp. "And— why? In return for the spell?"

"That was Hakyeon's deal," Jaehwan said softly. "Help in exchange for the sunlight bomb. Sanghyuk— he wouldn't— he— I asked why, I said I knew this wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. But he never answered me."

The blush lingered on Jaehwan's face. Hongbin sighed. "He made you a different offer," he said flatly.

Jaehwan shook his head. "He didn't. But it— it was implied."

Hongbin took in Jaehwan's defensive posture, the wrinkle of his brow and the sweet pink of his cheeks. "You're tempted," he said, realizing Jaehwan seemed guilty. Guilty for maybe wanting a vampire. Or even considering it. Guilty for his curiosity. Hongbin couldn't ever remember being like that, but Hongbin wasn't good at guilt as a rule. And he'd been bitten so many times— he was used to both wanting to claw vampires to pieces and yet also wanting them to tear his throat out. It was a strange compulsion, but it was simply what vampires were. 

"I'm not," Jaehwan said quickly, face snapping up so he could glare at Hongbin, who simply arched an eyebrow. "I'm _not_. It— I don't know. The idea makes me feel weird. Warm but cold, and all flip floppy." He hugged himself, rubbing at his upper arms in thought. Hongbin waited, letting him piece through his thoughts. "I'm afraid of him," Jaehwan finally said. "I'm afraid of all of them. I can't trust him. This is probably some other ploy of Hakyeon's, let's be real. Send his child that’s as big as a tree to seduce me, so I'm putty in their— their clutches." He shook his head. "No, I'm not falling for it."

Hongbin glanced up, at the damp ceiling, thinking of the endless sky above them. "I think Taekwoon is falling for it," he said softly, musing. 

"After all this shit— all the years we've had to deal with his repression and his hatred of vamps, he better fucking not." Jaehwan's expression darkened, the corners of his mouth growing tight. "If I can resist the carved-by-the-gods-marble-statue-of-wonder, he can resist Hakyeon, no matter how pretty he may be."

Hongbin made a thoughtful noise, then he reached out, touching Jaehwan's ear, and Jaehwan pulled back sharply, shivering. 

"I think you and I both know it's too late to say no, for any of us," Hongbin said. 

——

Waking up at noon meant Taekwoon wasn’t nearly tired enough for sleep when the sun set, but god, he wished he was. He wished he could sleep through this. Just fade out with the light and not wake until dawn. But that didn’t seem to be an option. Alternately, he could continue to sit on their ugly old couch while clicking around on his laptop, let the internet suck him into a mindless daze until he _was_ ready for sleep. That would be difficult, though, because the house wards were buzzing and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t tune it out, couldn’t stop that little niggling thought that Hakyeon was here, he was outside. Even if he could tune it out, he was in too much discomfort to nod off here anyway, the disintegrating cushions doing nothing to support Taekwoon’s bony frame. It had never been comfortable, not when they’d first moved in and less so now, the upholstery color growing more muted and indeterminable with time. Taekwoon had always thought it was green, like a murky lake, but Hongbin said it was brown. And Jaehwan said it was diarrhea-after-bad-curry colored, which really spoke volumes, as far as Taekwoon was concerned. 

_He still let you suck him off on it, though_ , Taekwoon’s brain spat out at him, and he shut his laptop with a snap and covered his face so when he let out a low moan that was almost a wail of despair, it was, at least, slightly muffled. 

“You alright?” Hongbin called from the kitchen. Taekwoon garbled out an affirmative sounding response. “Our usual company is here.”

“Great,” Taekwoon said, not really to Hongbin, just to the universe. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t spend several nights in, his brain was not going to shut up. About anything. About everything. And Taekwoon had spent over two decades not thinking, and he wasn’t about to fucking start now.

He said that, and yet, and _yet_ , here he was. 

At some point, Taekwoon needed to talk to Jaehwan. About what had happened on this couch.

Taekwoon stared at the back of the couch, thinking, remembering. It was all alcohol fuzzy, soft and a bit topsy turvy, as drunken memories tended to be. Jaehwan had—

“Nope,” Taekwoon said, shaking his head and setting his laptop on the coffee table. “I would rather talk to the vampire.” And wasn’t that just the cherry on top of this oversized collapsing cake. Talking to Hakyeon about the previous night was— it was something that needed to happen. He hadn’t been drunk. And neither had Hakyeon. Not to mention, Taekwoon sensed Hakyeon was going to be more tenacious. There was no escaping this. And Taekwoon would be lying if he said he didn’t have questions. He just wasn’t sure he wanted the answers.

More, he wasn’t sure the answers were going to calm this clawing wind inside him, the roar of air through branches and tearing at fields. He was afraid all Hakyeon was going to do, was ever going to do, was make it worse.

The kitchen light was on, on and brighter than the dim yellow bulbs in the living room. Hongbin was sitting at the spindly table, slowly making his way through a bowl of curry that was decidedly yellow. Taekwoon thought of the couch, and wrinkled his nose. 

“Where did Jae go?” he asked.

Hongbin looked to the hallway. “He said he was going to shower, so.”

Taekwoon listened, but didn’t hear the shower running. The only sound was the wind against the roof tiles and Hongbin’s chewing. “I do like how we’ve gotten so used to vampires hanging around that we can just— not even bother stopping what we’re doing,” Taekwoon said, not really meaning to sound reprimanding, but it still came out that way. “And by that, I mean I hate it.”

Hongbin’s cheek bulged as he shoved his mouthful into it so he could speak. “I got up and looked out the window,” he said, defensive. “The ugly one who tried to eat me is on the porch, yours is on the swing.”

_Yours_ , Taekwoon’s brain echoed. _Mine_. “Don’t call him that. He isn’t mine.”

Hongbin stared up at Taekwoon, gaze assessing. This time, he finished his mouthful and swallowed before he said, “Him. He.” Another sentence that shouldn’t be a reprimand. And yet.

Taekwoon felt himself coloring, and hated himself for it, hated this body and hated his own desires. “It. It is not mine. Hakyeon is— not mine. It’s— it is not. Mine.”

Hongbin’s gaze had turned flat. “You said that a few times,” Hongbin said, tone bored. He put his spoon down with a clank that sounded almost organic, like a bird call. It was a strangely lonely sound. “But he’s always the one chasing you around, while we have to deal with the lackeys.”

Vampires at every turn. "That’s not my fault."

"Except it kind of is," Hongbin said. Another reprimand, a soft one, but Taekwoon felt it like a blade. Whatever crossed his face made Hongbin's gaze drop. "But it doesn’t really matter." He picked up his spoon again, stirring his curry. "Are you going to tell them that we’re all staying in tonight like good little hostages? It’d be nice if one of them fucked off— when there’s two of them lurking around the wards feel a bit too much."

Taekwoon glanced up for a beat, like he could see the magic threaded above them, keeping them safe, but there was nothing but water-stained ceiling. "Yes," he said, in answer as well as agreement. "I was going to."

"I like how you’re not afraid of them anymore." It was an echo of Taekwoon's earlier sentiment, but far more bitter in taste. It was always like that, with Hongbin. A bite of a grapefruit without the sugar to chase it. 

"I am. I am afraid," Taekwoon said quietly, an admission that, for all that it was true, felt noxious to say aloud. He touched his leather jacket, slung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. The leather was soft and worn, a comfort. He'd stolen it from his parent's closet when he was fourteen. "I know eventually their patience will run out and something will give. I haven’t forgotten. I just— I don’t know. I don’t think it will happen tonight."

Hongbin blinked at him, thoughtful, and Taekwoon fought not to fidget. He felt guilty for some reason, ashamed. Maybe because _I don’t think it will happen tonight_ also meant _I trust Hakyeon not to hurt me tonight_.

But he didn't. He didn't trust Hakyeon. 

"I just— I mean—" Taekwoon stammered, cheeks reddening as Hongbin continued to stare at him. "It wouldn't be advantageous to hurt me. It wouldn't exactly make Jaehwan more likely to cooperate."

"Kidnapping you might, though," Hongbin said softly. "I don't think they will, since they haven't already. Just be careful, Taek."

Taekwoon picked the jacket up, pulling it on. The zipper, steel, clinked softly against itself as the jacket settled on his frame. "I will," he murmured. From the depths of the house, there was a gentle sound of water hitting tiles, and closer, the water heater gurgled from the corner of the kitchen. Hopefully there would be no cause for Jaehwan to come running out into the night stark naked to wield some magic and save Taekwoon. He realized, quite suddenly, that he didn't have a vial of Jaehwan's blood, for backup. He hadn't had one last night, either. Foolish, and sloppy. But he hadn't been able to find it in himself to ask. 

Hongbin watched him walk across the kitchen but dropped his eyes back to his food when Taekwoon opened the back door. The cold air rushed in, so thick it was like a presence in itself. Taekwoon shivered as he stepped out, ears already stinging from cold. 

Even though he'd been expecting it, had known he was there, he still jolted when he caught sight of Wonshik, lounging on the fraying wicker chair. The door swung shut behind Taekwoon, taking a lot of the light with it, and the sound of it made goosebumps rise on Taekwoon's arms. He was out with the monsters, and there was nothing to keep him safe. 

Wonshik didn't move, his stillness somehow threatening in its otherness. Taekwoon was nothing but movement, blood flowing in his veins, steam puffing out with his breathing. Wonshik either wasn't breathing, or was too cold for his breath to be visible. There was nothing living about him, nothing human other than his shape. His clothing, black jeans and a black shirt, short sleeved, somehow only enhanced his wrongness. A creature that was out of time, that felt no cold or pain. It was like Taekwoon was seeing a specter. 

"You don't need to be here," Taekwoon said, the words visible as clouds in the air. Wonshik blinked, one shoulder raising as he shifted into more of a slouch. The movement was as unnatural as his stillness, and it was almost worse. Like a nightmare coming to life. But then he was still again, eyes closing, a dismissal. Taekwoon's hands clenched into fists, his joints already aching. His blade was heavy in his jacket pocket. 

"Taekwoon," a familiar voice called from the yard. Taekwoon looked across the overgrown, browning grass, squinting to see through the darkness. The porch light grew watery, and Taekwoon couldn't see the fence that denoted the outer edge of their yard, it was all faded darkness. But he could faintly see Hakyeon, his body looped through the tire swing, spinning slowly. His arms rested atop it, head pillowed there. His eyes glittered in darkness, catching the light in a way that was almost as unnatural as Wonshik's stillness.

Taekwoon stepped off the porch, feeling the stairs bend under his weight before he descended onto first concrete, then into grass. It rustled underfoot as he walked to the tree, catching on his pant legs, a few sturdier stalks jabbing at his knee caps. 

Hakyeon had done two spins by the time Taekwoon was near enough to see him properly. His pants were black, like Wonshik's, but cotton rather than denim, and he was wearing a muted pink shirt, the sleeves of which cut off around his elbows. Another creature that didn't, and wouldn't ever, feel the bite of winter. 

"You look cold, kitten," Hakyeon said. He moved, curving his hands over the top of the tire so he could lean back, beginning to swing slightly. His glittering eyes were a little too focused, and Taekwoon wanted to shy away from them, that terrible feeling of falling stuck in his gut. The predator was strong in Hakyeon's eyes, for all that he was wearing a dusty pink shirt. "And you seem unwell."

Taekwoon, quite suddenly, hated him all over again. The feeling was neither fiery destruction nor icy cold purpose, neither an explosion nor a razor's edge. Worse, it was sadness, a gentle hopelessness that made Taekwoon want to cry. 

“And whose fault is that?” he asked, the upset bleeding into his tone, rendering his soft voice harsh.

Hakyeon put a foot down, enough so that his toes dragged through the dirt and his swinging stopped. His shoulders raised a little, chin tucking down. “You’re angry,” he said, in a brilliant assessment that only agitated Taekwoon further. “After last night, I—”

Taekwoon hissed, utterly involuntary. He hated the intimacy of that sentence. _After last night_. The horrible implication of a shared moment. Of some kind of intimacy. “Nothing happened last night,” said Taekwoon lowly. That was the whole problem. Taekwoon had done nothing. 

“That is not true,” Hakyeon said. For all that his voice was lower than Taekwoon’s in timbre, he sounded younger. “We talked. Well. I talked.”

“You did. You're good at that,” Taekwoon said, not meaning it as a compliment. Judging by Hakyeon’s frown, he hadn’t taken it as one. “And you're good at lying too, I’m sure.”

Hakyeon’s shoulders lowered, and his chin raised again as he regarded Taekwoon through half-open eyes. “Kitten,” he sighed out, and Taekwoon’s lips twisted on a snarl, all animal where Hakyeon wasn’t, anymore. “Are we going to do this again? Have you changed your mind— do you want to kill me after all? Get your blade, carve me open, the offer still stands.”

Mentally, Taekwoon recoiled, and his emotions threatened to overtake him, dragging him along like a riptide. His snarl twisted into a grimace, tears prickling at the backs of his eyes. “Stop putting it on me,” he all but cried, hating the edge of desperation in his voice. “You fucking monster.” _Stop letting me have the choice, I'm going to keep making the wrong one_.

Again, Hakyeon sighed, head tipping down. His lashes were dark and long, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I'm done fighting you, kitten,” he murmured. “I grow weary of it.” In a lovely motion, he brought his foot back up and began to sway his legs, causing him to swing again. “Everything I said to you last night was true. Why do you want to believe it to be a lie so badly?”

Taekwoon didn't answer, didn’t want to think of the answer. _It’s easier_. He shook his head, and Hakyeon hummed, swinging farther, waiting. A vampire would always be able to outlast Taekwoon, human as he was. “If it was true,” Taekwoon finally said, “do you still believe liking boys means you're going to hell?”

More humming, for a moment, the sound of it like a siren call. It made Taekwoon want to sway forward. “No,” Hakyeon said. Taekwoon watched as Hakyeon brought his feet up, notching them inside the ring of the tire so he could stand inside it, hands grasping the rope as he swung like a pendulum. “Things were simpler back then, in terms of mindset. Everything was black and white. You were with God, or you were with the Devil.” He heaved a heavy sigh, looking up at the overcast skyscape above. “I know better, now.” In a blink he was staring back down at Taekwoon, finding his eyes with an alarmingly fast jolt. “And you?”

Taekwoon felt the frown wrinkle his brow, and he cocked his head. “And me what?”

“Do you believe I'm going to hell?” The question was merely curious, no weight to it one way or another. 

“I don’t believe in hell,” Taekwoon said, knowing he should probably look away from Hakyeon’s eyes. It was a non-answer, but it didn’t matter. “Or heaven. I don’t believe in anything.”

“Somehow that isn’t surprising,” Hakyeon muttered, seemingly more for his own benefit than Taekwoon’s. In a fluid motion, like smoke rising from an extinguished candle, Hakyeon pulled himself up, so he was sitting atop the swing, the rope between his legs as his feet dangled over the middle of the tire. “Have you always felt that way, or did you decide it after you realized you liked boys?”

For all that Taekwoon felt like his insides had just been flung from a skyscraper, he did not react outwardly, at all. He’d have a moment, later, where he allowed himself to be proud of it. “I don’t like boys,” he said. 

Hakyeon made a surprised, choking sort of noise, that devolved into laughter. It was an awful sound, a mimicry of what it should be, but Hakyeon's smile was lovely. Taekwoon hated that he noticed.

“You don’t?” Hakyeon asked, still smiling, teeth brilliant white but blunt. “Well, I guess I really have no chance, then.”

Taekwoon refrained from pointing out that Hakyeon was a vampire, and thus, he never had a chance to start with. Instead, he simply scowled, his cheeks flaming in the cold air, and tried not to think of the way Jaehwan had tasted under his tongue. 

The swing was slowing, Hakyeon leaning his forehead on the rope as he gazed down at Taekwoon. “Kitten,” he murmured, “it's okay, you know.”

Taekwoon had to shake himself, tune back into this moment. “What is?” he asked.

“Liking boys.”

“I know,” Taekwoon said, blinking. He'd never said it wasn't.

Hakyeon’s forehead creased in gentle bemusement. “Then why—”

Taekwoon grabbed the edge of the tire swing, giving it a good yank and then letting go, so Hakyeon swung upwards sharply, twirling. “Has anyone ever told you you're annoying?” he asked, mostly to shut Hakyeon up.

Another laugh. This one sounded less awful. Or maybe Taekwoon was getting used to it. “Every day of my life since I was five,” Hakyeon said, not seeming particularly perturbed. As he swung by, Taekwoon gave the swing another shove, and there was an ominous sort of crackling noise. “I prefer the term _persistent_ —”

There was a snap, and then the tire and Hakyeon both suddenly sailed out of the neat little arc they'd been swinging in to instead fly through the air and land with a comical sort of thump in the overgrown grass. The fraying rope had finally given. A few feet of it still dangled from the branch overhead, but most of it lay coiled like a snake’s body in the grass, one end still tied to the swing. 

Hakyeon sat up, hair ruffled, the grass coming up to his chest. His legs were still thrown over the tire, and the wide neck of his shirt had slipped to the side, baring his left shoulder. From behind them, there was a noise that Taekwoon eventually identified as Wonshik laughing. Hakyeon glared beyond Taekwoon, at where Wonshik was presumably still sitting. Taekwoon was, momentarily, struck by how slender he was, how much he looked like a doll that had been tossed away.

Hakyeon shifted, getting his feet under himself to stand, but Taekwoon was there before he could finish the motion, before Taekwoon himself could think about what he was doing. He grabbed Hakyeon under the arms, hauling him up with more difficulty than he'd have thought. Hakyeon looked feather light, like he would be spun from glass, or molded ceramic, painted with care but ultimately hollow. He was too beautiful to be possible. But the weight of him was very real and just like an ordinary human's, the feeling of him strikingly organic. Skin and bones and blood.

Hakyeon made a soft little noise of surprise, like a droplet of rain hitting a still surface. The exhalation wasn't visible in the air, and Taekwoon knew it was because Hakyeon was as icy as the sky, a corpse left to freeze, eternal. He let Hakyeon go once the vampire was back on his feet, crossing his arms so his hands were tucked away in an attempt to warm them.

"You're heavier than you look," Taekwoon said, staring down at the tire swing because Hakyeon's shirt was still askew, and his shoulder was peeking out. "And cold."

He could only see Hakyeon out of his peripheral vision, a dark blob and a smear of pink. "I— I wasn't expecting you to touch me," Hakyeon said, voice curiously strangled. "I would have— I can— we can control the temperature of our bodies."

Taekwoon had heard that. It seemed like a weird feature to be built with. He glanced at Hakyeon, saw the vampire still looked mussed. There was grass sticking to his black pants, obvious for the striking color difference, and though his hair had gone back to mostly normal, there were still a few errant strands floating about his head. It made him look more like he was living. It was simultaneously beautiful and horrible. Taekwoon reached out and pinched the collar of Hakyeon's shirt delicately between his forefinger and thumb, like he was grabbing a dead rat, and brought it back up to where it was supposed to be, covering Hakyeon's shoulder. Hakyeon stilled, for it, that terrible vampire stillness.

"Kitten," Hakyeon breathed out, and this time, his breath was an ice-white puff of air as he spoke. Warm. Like he was expecting Taekwoon to touch him again. 

There was a sound at the back of Taekwoon's brain, that was like an air horn going off in the distance, continuous and annoying. Taekwoon reared back, eyes skittering over Hakyeon's frame— silken black hair, glittering eyes, elbows peeking out of his shirt, cream grass seeds stuck to his thighs. He needed to go inside.

"I came out to tell you we're not— I'm not— going out tonight. And the house wards are all jittery with two of you here so—" Taekwoon stuttered to a stop, making some vague motion with his hand. He was already halfway back to the porch, not even sure if he was getting his point across but needing to get away, back inside where the world made a little more sense. The darkness was for dreams and imaginings, and Taekwoon had had his fill for the night. 

Hakyeon didn't reply, Hakyeon didn't do _anything_ , just stood like a statue beside the fallen swing. Wonshik, though, Wonshik moved when Taekwoon scuttled onto the porch, making Taekwoon veer away sharply, simply on instinct. But all Wonshik did was reach into his back pocket and pull out a phone, that Taekwoon quickly recognized as Hongbin's.

"He's been asking for it," Wonshik said, voice as deep as a well, and he held the phone out for Taekwoon to take. The _he_ in question was presumably Hongbin. 

Taekwoon edged in just near enough to snatch the phone from Wonshik before retreating. He looked like a desperate army, beaten and clambering to escape, and he didn't even care. The sheer relief of tugging the door open, feeling the warmth of the house rush over him, was a bandage on his wounds. 

"Tell him," Wonshik said as Taekwoon was stepping into the house, "that his mother has been calling." 

The door shut behind Taekwoon. In the bright light, he blinked, eyes watering, but he could see well enough to know Hongbin was beside the counter, well enough to be able to tell his face had gone white.

——

Sanghyuk had travelled that night to a small, beige house on the worse off side of town. The kind of neighborhood where all houses had bars over the window for security. Sanghyuk knew even if she’d lived in a better part of town, the Witch would still have bars over her windows. This was a place that a younger Sanghyuk, a still human Sanghyuk, would have been left in wonder over. Now, though, the scent of magic was too thick in such a closed-in space for his vampire nose. The low ceiling nearly brushed the crown of his head, and the bundles of dried bird’s feet _definitely_ brushed his head. Along with the knots of sage and thistle and Lord only knew what else. Vampires couldn’t get headaches, but Sanghyuk could swear one was lurking. 

The Witch sat small and frail on an ochre sofa that had probably been upholstered in the 70s. Her frame was that of a young woman’s, hair dry and white blonde, like she’d been left out in the sun to bleach. Possibly also in the 70s. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said, in a voice that was pleasing even if her intonation was the grating, bored drawl of a valley girl. “I can’t get a reading on a person who isn’t here, and I can’t diagnose a magical problem like this without _details_.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like you’re psychic or anything, right,” Sanghyuk said, making a sweeping gesture at the low table in front of the heinous couch. On it sat three items; a collection of small animals bones in a shallow wooden jar, a deck of worn tarot cards, and a round mirror about the size of a plate, set facedown.

“Everything has limitations, including magic, and you’re being a cryptic sack of shit,” the Witch said smartly. Sanghyuk was probably lucky she wasn’t good at placing hexes on the dead. She bent forward, like a sapling twisting in a strong breeze, and picked up her tarot deck, fanning the cards out. “Ask a question, pick a card.”

Sanghyuk stared at the backs of the cards, thinking they looked cheap. _Jaehwan_ , his brain said, and it was a question in feeling even if not in coherency. He stooped, low, lower, to sweep up a card from the middle of the fanned out deck. Upon flipping it over, he saw two figures, facing towards one another, each holding a gauntlet in their hands. 

“The two of cups,” Sanghyuk said, and she snatched it out of his hands to look at it herself, then shoved it right back in the deck, gathering the cards up smoothly again. She handed the whole deck to him. The cards were curiously warm in his hands.

“Shuffle them and think of your question again,” she said, and Sanghyuk sighed. This wasn’t what he came here for. But he obediently shuffled the cards, finding his vampire grace did little to help him in the effort. He was heinously bad at it, but she did not mention it. “Flip over the top card.”

_Jaehwan_. Sanghyuk flipped over the top card. The two of cups. He hated this.

The Witch hummed. “Get your sorcerer here, and I will take him apart.”

——

Hongbin didn’t know why he was so worried. His feelings about his old life were conflicted to put it simply, and he’d thoroughly left it all behind. It didn’t matter, if the vampires had found his mother.

And yet. 

“I’d know if something had happened to her,” Jaehwan said. He’d put on an oversized ensemble of grey sweatpants and a matching tee, his hair still shower-damp. Hongbin didn’t reply, simply crossed his arms and stared at a jar labelled _dried fox gloves_. The label had a little skull drawn at the bottom.

From the corner of the room, Taekwoon added, “We put those charms in her garden. Jaehwan is right, we’d know if something was wrong.”

Hongbin swallowed. “I know.” It was still disconcerting.

Jaehwan sat cross legged on his slim bed, twisting a thread between his fingers. They’d left the air mattress down here, and it was decidedly deflated. It would stay here until it died and then some, but Jaehwan hadn’t complained. Idly, Hongbin wondered if his food stack was getting low. “I can make her another charm?” Jaehwan offered. “Just a little general one, if you want.”

Hongbi shook his head, distracted. “No.” The light from the kitchen blazed down like a searchlight through the open trapdoor. It illuminated Taekwoon’s left side sharply. He looked diminished in ways, like a flower left in a dry vase to wilt. But there was something new under his skin, something electric. Maybe it was simply mania. “Can I borrow the car?” Hongbin asked him.

Taekwoon glanced at Jaehwan, who had looped the string over and around his fingers until it hung in a star shape between his palms. “Yeah,” Taekwoon murmured. “I have work, but I can take the bus.”

Hongbin nodded shortly, in wordless thanks. Fuck, how he hated this.

“It’s okay, you know,” Jaehwan said softly. Hongbin cocked his head in question, and Jaehwan elaborated, “We’ve lost so much, it makes sense to want to keep what remains safe.” 

Hongbin watched as Jaehwan slowly untangled his fingers from the red string. _Lost_. His eyes travelled to Taekwoon, a budding rose in an ice storm. _Left behind_.

He was a mix of the two, Hongbin. He’d lost some things, and left behind the rest. 

“If they’ve found Hongbin’s mother,” Taekwoon whispered, barely audible, “it’ll only be a matter of time before they figure out everything else.” Through bangs gone overlong, he looked at Jaehwan. “I don’t want to give them any more possible leverage.”

“We’re already in a corner,” Jaehwan said. He was twisting the string into a new design, but it had gotten tangled around his pinky. “I’m working on it.”

Taekwoon closed his eyes, covering his face with his hand. 

Above them, the house’s wards still wept for the presence of vampires. As soon as they stopped, Hongbin would go home. 

——

“He touched me.”

“I saw,” Wonshik said, still not looking up from his tablet. Hakyeon knew the research was important, but this was rather momentous, he thought. 

“Wonshik,” Hakyeon said, leaning over his child, bracing some of his weight on Wonshik’s solid thigh. The idea of a very muscular lover was nice, until you were in their lap, and everything was too hard to be comfortable. But maybe with Wonshik that was less muscle and more just bone. “He _touched_ me.”

“Clearly you should fall on your ass more often,” Wonshik mumbled, and Hakyeon slapped his arm. Wonshik didn’t even react.

“You’re horrid, I’m going to cut your allowance.” Hakyeon leaned forward more, until his forehead bumped with Wonshik’s, so he could see the screen of the tablet. Tiny letters in tidy rows, a list of some kind. “What is this?”

“Names,” Wonshik muttered. “Taekwoon has four siblings, he’s the youngest. I’m trying to track their lives.”

Hakyeon stood up straight, wondering how this new knowledge fit in with the Taekwoon he knew. “And the other two?” Hakyeon asked.

“I can’t find either Jaehwan or Hongbin on the list of graduates from the school Taekwoon went to,” Wonshik said, a frown darkening his face. “I’m starting to go through other nearby schools but so far nothing.”

Hakyeon wasn’t dampened by this news. He felt giddy, buoyant, like his chest held a hot air balloon and he was going to float up into the night sky. It was most unlike him. 

He leaned up against one of the porch’s support beams, hands braced on the peeling paint. The moon shone like the sun of his human days, silver instead of gold, turning the world into a washed out winter postcard. He sensed Wonshik finally looking at him, his gaze like a touch.

“He’s noticed, you know,” Wonshik said, voice dropping. It was a mild landslide of a sound, rough and deep. “Taekwoon.”

“Noticed what?” Hakyeon asked. Sometimes, he wished he didn’t have to live in a city. The sky was so much smaller here.

“You.”

Hakyeon frowned, looking away from the stars to glance back at Wonshik. But if Wonshik _had_ been looking at Hakyeon, he wasn’t anymore. The light from the tablet made Wonshik’s eyes glow, like he was animatronic. “Well, I would hope he has,” Hakyeon said in obvious confusion.

Wonshik smiled, just slightly, and didn’t say anything more.

——

The vampires left, and the stars disappeared as the sky turned grey. Hongbin climbed into Taekwoon’s compact old Pontiac, the steering wheel chilled against his hands. The engine turned over once before catching and coming to life, like a hibernating beast woken before its time. As he pulled out of the driveway, Hongbin caught sight of Taekwoon’s pale face through the living room window. He didn’t wave, and neither did Hongbin. For both their sakes, he hoped he didn’t get pulled over. The insurance didn’t cover him. But this needed to get done.

There was one highway that went through their city. It headed either towards the ocean, finding its end, or beginning, in the large bay city there, or further inland and up, through the mountains. Hongbin headed towards the Blue Hills, the highway going from four lanes down to three, then two, as it snaked up and around the Hills. The sun finally broke over the horizon when Hongbin hit the crest, and were he more inclined to such things, he might have stopped to look at it. As it was, he followed the curve of the road until it took him to the other side of the mountain, blocking the reborn sun from view. Where before he had seen the valley in golds and pinks he now looked over a span of fairly flat land, the evergreen trees fading out to be replaced with grass gone yellow with the season, rolling on into the horizon. It was purpley here, in the shadow of the Hills. Hongbin descended.

_I should have called her_ , he thought, as he rode the brake down the mountainside. Cops liked to hide at the base and nab you, which Hongbin thought was cheating. But he did not see any cops. And he hadn’t called his mother. So. 

It was boring once the land evened out, and the Hills became figures lurking in his rearview mirror. There was so little out here, a scenic land of sparseness and black highway. In the distance a gas station loomed, a metropolitan oasis. Its sign had once been vibrantly colored but the harshness of the sun had rendered it faded like a memory. Hongbin didn’t stop.

Eventually, the horizon was disturbed, with trees, ridges, and then buildings. The town of Hope had sprung up like a tumor on the edges of Clearwater lake, a manmade creation gathered after the dam had been built. Seen through a stranger’s eyes, it might be quaint, with its locally owned diner and rusted gas stations, the drive-in that teens still lost their virginity at.

Hongbin did not think it was quaint. 

He drove through downtown at the exact posted speed limit, already hating everything. He wondered if this was how Taekwoon felt when faced with vampires, this vague sensation of anger and odd self-loathing. Maybe Hongbin should be gentler with him.

Too soon he was coming up on a sign that read _Evergreen Village_. Someone had spray painted an _N_ at the start of sign about five years ago, so it read _Nevergreen Village_. It had been scrubbed at thoroughly, but the ghost of it was still there. Below the name, in neat lettering, it said _Luxury Mobile Home Park_. 

The Village was as far from the edge of the lake as it could be and still be considered within Hope’s city boundaries. The car lurched as Hongbin turned onto the main lane, going from (grey, cracked, shitty) asphalt onto (dry as an old lady’s vagina) packed dirt. Dust rose in a reddish brown puff in the wake of Hongbin’s car as he rolled along the lane. They needed a rain. Or a fire. Fire to cleanse and rain to wash the ashes away. 

There were a few trees here and there, people attempting to plant gardens. But it all was dusty, browning, and not because of the winter. Even in spring the leaves were always curling slightly, muted where they should be vibrant. Struggling for life. Hongbin passed the trailer Jaehwan’s family used to live in. The new inhabitants had torn out Jaehwan’s mother’s roses, and not bothered to replace them with anything. Just as well. They’d died when she had. 

Hongbin grit his teeth, baring them in a sort of grimace as he pulled up in front of his mother’s double wide. There was only one car in the shallow driveway beside it, which either meant she was here alone, or whoever she was dating at the moment didn’t have a car. His mother usually had standards but there were only so many men in Hope that had both a car and all their front teeth. And he knew she was an aesthetic sort of person.

Before he turned the car off, he saw it wasn’t even eight in the morning yet. But he prefered Hope and his mother sleepy. It rendered them quieter. 

Hongbin took things in as he opened the little gate and went up the four stairs to the front door. There was a bit of rust in the corners of the place, but the double wide had been painted sometime in the last few months. No doubt by some poor sap his mother had doe-eyed into it. Overall, though the place seemed tidy and well kept, which made Hongbin feel a little better. He knew his mother was grown, but. Well. 

He knocked on the door, hard. “Mom,” he called. “It’s your child.” There was a key to the door sitting in his pocket, but he didn’t want to just let himself in and be shot by an overzealous lover thinking he was an intruder. “Mother.”

Someone from the neighboring single wide woke up and shouted at Hongbin to shut the fuck up before his mother eventually opened her door. She was wearing a pretty little slip of a nightgown (old, Hongbin remembered it from before his father died) under a frilly sort of robe (new, machine-made lace). Her bobbed hair floated angelically about her head, face pink and sleepy-soft. 

“Hongbin?” she said, blinking, and then smiled, dimples deep in her cheeks. “You scared me.”

Something deep inside him eased at the sight of her, even if beside it, another something felt hopelessly lost. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, and let her give him a hug. 

When she pulled away she patted at his shoulders, in a fluttery, helpless sort of way. “It’s been months, and you haven’t called, and it’s so _early_ — well, nevermind I suppose. Come in, I’ll make coffee.”

Hongbin stepped into the trailer, and found its condition similar to the outside. Well kept, if a bit worn. “I’m not staying long,” he called after her as she floated into the kitchen, a wispy piece of silk in the breeze. She paid him no mind.

He glanced over the sofa, a dreadful plaid thing, at the new framed picture there. His mother, standing in front of a beach he had never been to, with a man he had never met. When Hongbin was younger, he’d always felt something was a little off about the look of his home as compared to his friends, and eventually, he’d realized that at other houses, the pictures were _different_. One would have the eldest child, another a niece with the family dog, another yet with the mother and grandmother at a birthday dinner. Snapshots of the family as a whole. Hongbin’s house was a story of his mother. Yes, there were pictures of him, but only if she was in the shot as well. It didn’t hurt per se, it was just how his mother was.

“This couch is ugly, mom,” he said loudly, knowing he really had no room to talk about ugly furnishings. In his defense, their house had come with most of the ugly furnishings. This couch was new, which meant she’d picked it. 

The sound of the coffee machine perking started up in a cheerful, burbling way, and then his mother was floating back into the small living room. “I like it,” she said vaguely. She was doing the thing, the fluttery thing that said she didn't know what to do with herself. Hongbin took pity on her.

“I can’t stay, like I said.” He grabbed her elbow gently and guided her onto the couch. She flopped down quite gratefully, as if getting the coffee going had been terribly arduous. “I’m going home; I’d been up in the Ridge area visiting a friend. I just thought I’d pop in since you’re on the way.” 

“You drove all night?” she asked, consternation wrinkling her brow. She was such a pretty thing, and her sort of helpless nature was, weirdly, appealing to a very wide array of men. Hongbin supposed men liked to feel _needed_.

He looked so much like her, except he had his father’s jawline, angles and sharpness where his mother’s was as curved as the moon. 

“Sure,” he said, not even caring about the lie. “I wanted to ask you— my phone—”

“You lost it!” she said suddenly, eyes lighting up. “Someone found it, I gave him Taekwoon’s number, I hope you don’t mind—”

“I don’t,” he said, soothing. “Did you say anything else to him?”

She blinked up at him. He hated to think that it looked like she was blinking _stupidly_ , but sometimes his list of known adjectives was short, and at eight in the morning, the list was pretty damn sparse. His mother wasn’t stupid; in fact, she must have had some kind of cunning to her, because she conned man after man into not only dating her, but into buying her things. Like her frilly nightgown and the ugly couch. Hongbin didn’t think for a moment she’d bought them for herself. 

“He wanted to know where you lived,” she finally said, slowly. “And I told him, I said, he’s in the valley. But the valley was far, so he asked where I lived, because if he was closer to me, he could just leave it here, which would have been an inconvenience but I wouldn’t have particularly minded—”

“You told him where you live?” he asked, stomach dropping sickly. “A stranger you don’t know?”

She flicked the edge of her robe at him. “I did not, I told him I lived near the Clearwater dam.”

_Because that isn’t the same fucking thing_ , Hongbin thought. Hope was the only civilization right on Clearwater lake. No other city wanted to be associated with the place, and really, Hongbin couldn’t blame them. He stared at the side table, the picture frames crowded there. Somewhere, there were pictures of his father, probably shoved at the very back of things. 

Hongbin wondered what it meant, that the vampires knew that he, at least, was from Hope. 

His mother leaned forward, grabbing at his hand and hooking her index finger around his pinky. “Dear,” she said, “I was wondering, there is a teensy leak at the back of the water heater—”

Hongbin closed his eyes, and sighed.

——

When Taekwoon had boarded the bus, he’d snagged the last empty seat. As the bus lurched through downtown, it only got more packed, the blasting heater and many bodies making the small space nauseatingly warm. Taekwoon tucked his long legs nearer to himself, trying to take up less room, but he could only compress so much. He let his forehead knock against the window, smudged with fingerprints like a murder scene. The pale grey of the sky had broken in pieces, showing the uneven edges of clouds, and from the cracks, light spilled through in beams. It was the first bit of sunlight Taekwoon had seen today, and it was fading. He was so tired. Unlike yesterday, he’d be able to sleep early, tonight. Crash out with the sun.

But he knew he wasn’t going to.

For all that the bus filled with alarming speed, it emptied the same way, and by the time Taekwoon was getting off, he was one of only three people still riding. The pale sky had gone gunmetal grey, rippled and angry. They said snow was coming. But not for another day or so. The night, however, was nearly upon them. Taekwoon, in a vague way, knew he should be moving quickly. _Get off the streets_. But he wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore, not in the same way. 

The bus stop was a good four blocks from home, and when Taekwoon arrived back, the porch light was on, and his car was in the driveway. Belatedly, he realized he could have called Hongbin to come pick him up. He wasn’t sure he would have wanted to ask that of him though, not today. Taekwoon knew Hongbin’s mother was draining, her personality made her so, more so because Hongbin simply wasn’t good at faking it. Or rather, wasn’t good at curbing himself. 

The inside of the house was cool, but compared to the frigidness of the outdoors, it felt like the warm embrace of an old friend. Taekwoon would simply leave his sweater on. “Hongbin?” he called, unwinding the white scarf from around his neck and draping it over the back of the couch as he moved through the living room. 

“Here,” Hongbin called from the depths of the hallway. After a moment he emerged from the darkness in his pajamas, an echo of a vampire in his paleness, his beauty. But no vampire would look so tired, nor would they tag their shoulder on the corner of the hallway while exiting it. Hongbin grumbled, rubbing at his arm. “Jaehwan wanted to talk to us, once you got home.”

Taekwoon raised his eyebrow as Hongbin walked past him, avoiding his eyes. “Are you going to tell me how your mother was?” he asked, following as Hongbin led them into the kitchen. 

Hongbin made a noise that sounded almost like a stomach gurgling. “She’s how she always is,” he muttered. “She told the vamps— well. They asked some questions, and she told them she lived out by the dam. So they at least know her general location. I was worried she might have been glamoured, but she’s _her_ so it’s like, how can you tell?” He snorted, but Taekwoon could tell he was upset.

“I don’t think they’re going to go for her, Hongbin,” Taekwoon murmured, and Hongbin paused in his action of opening the pantry door. Taekwoon wished he could see Hongbin’s face. “It would be pointless.”

“Yeah,” Hongbin agreed, but it didn’t sound convinced. He opened the pantry and then knelt to knock on the trap door before tugging that open too. Light spilled out, Jaehwan was up and about. “I’m also just worried about them getting any kind of leverage. Hope is where our dreams all died.”

Taekwoon thought that was rather cryptic, but perhaps it was just a cryptic sort of night. The vampires were seeping in, insidious and persistent. 

Hongbin led the way down, and Taekwoon shivered; the basement was nearly as icy as it was outside. “Did your space heater break?” he asked, looking at Jaehwan sitting at his desk, an array of items lined up tidily in front of him. 

“Hmm? Oh,” Jaehwan said. Once again, Taekwoon had thought Hongbin looked tired, but Jaehwan had him beat. He was thin tonight, not in weight just in... presence. In the yellow light his skin looked sallow. “I just forgot to turn it on.”

Taekwoon went to stand beside him at the desk, holding out his hands wordlessly. After a beat Jaehwan held his own out, let Taekwoon take them in his, warming them. Jaehwan was icy as a vampire, and Taekwoon shivered, bringing them nearer his body, clasping onto Jaehwan tightly.

From behind him, Hongbin sighed. Taekwoon willed his ears not to turn pink. “What did you want to tell us, Jaehwan?” he asked. “What did you find?”

Jaehwan shook his head, looking at the little display he’d gathered. “It’s what I haven’t found,” he murmured. “I’m trying to figure out a way to tell the vampires the spell, without telling them it’s alive in my blood. And I don’t think I can. I think it’s all or nothing.” 

Taekwoon’s fingers were already robbed of all their warmth, but still he held Jaehwan’s hands. He glanced over the items collected on the desk, herbs and chalk, a stone bowl, mixed among things Taekwoon couldn’t identify. “The ingredients?” he asked softly, and Jaehwan nodded with a sigh.

“I can give them this, but— it won’t answer the big question. Which is why it is my blood that makes it tick,” Jaehwan said. “And I could lie, and say I re-cast the spell on a vial of my blood every time— but they’ll try and replicate it, and it won’t work. And I don’t think lying would be wise, anyway.”

Taekwoon didn’t think lying was the path they should take, either. But he also recoiled from revealing the whole truth. He did not think— but he didn’t _know_. How could they know how the vampires would react. For all Taekwoon knew, Hakyeon’s interest in him was utterly fabricated to get under his skin. It was not a shield he should rely on. The sudden thought that everything was a lie— well, it made sense, in a terrible way, and it made the rest of Taekwoon feel as cold as his hands. He’d forgotten, somehow. The bigger picture. That in the end, this was about Jaehwan, first and foremost. 

“You can’t tell them the truth,” Taekwoon murmured, and against his fingers, Jaehwan sparked, a little, and he drew his hands away. 

“We’re out of options,” Jaehwan said, looking up at him with an unreadable expression. Sometimes, Jaehwan seemed like an immortal himself. His frame was so young, younger than his years because of the magic in him, but his eyes were dark with ancient eternity. “Earlier, Hongbin— he said it’s too late to say no. And he’s right. In the end, something has to give, and it isn’t going to be them.”

Taekwoon swallowed thickly. It was all too much. He was so tired of feeling like he’d been tossed in the deep end and left to drown. He didn’t like the idea that he was the only one still trying to float, that Jaehwan and Hongbin were content to let the depths take them. 

“It’s too late to say no,” Hongbin echoed, and when Taekwoon turned to him, he knew his expression was wretched. Hongbin’s face was also unreadable, but where Jaehwan’s was a placid pool, Hongbin’s was more a chalkboard wiped clean.”But I don’t necessarily think— we should give in just yet either.” 

“They’ll run out of patience,” Jaehwan said, and as the words left his lips, the house wards began to titter. Jaehwan closed his eyes, and it was, in itself, a surrender.

“They will,” Taekwoon agreed, looking up, wondering who it was tonight with a hollow sort of feeling in his chest. He almost didn’t care. It didn’t even matter anymore. It was a vampire, any other details were irrelevant. “But I think we should wait until they do, to give up like that. Something else may come up before then— we might be able to get a way out of this, Jae.”

Surprisingly, Jaehwan laughed at that, softly, little puffs of air. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said, hand coming up to fiddle with his ear. His gaze flicked up to meet Taekwoon’s, and guilt spiked in Taekwoon’s gut. Could they see, he wondered. Were his secrets as obvious as a brand. “I don’t want to give up either. I don’t want the end of my life to see me in chains.” His expression hardened, and his hand fell away from his ear to instead clench atop his thigh. “We’ll wait, then. But you needed to know, that our options are— nonexistent.”

Taekwoon nodded shortly, rubbing a hand over his face. He stepped back, away from Jaehwan, foot nudging the air mattress on the floor. It needed to be refilled. A task for another night. 

“I’m going to bed,” Taekwoon said, looking at Hongbin, and then Jaehwan. They were all mirrors of one another, the three of them, despair a ball and chain they couldn’t shake. “You two should rest, too.”

“I will,” Hongbin said, face turned away. As Taekwoon ascended the stairs up into the kitchen, he saw Jaehwan sweep his hand across his desk, pushing all the spell ingredients into a pile. Something about the action was painful, an unusual show of destruction.

Taekwoon looked to the darkened kitchen window, did not see any vampires lurking in the yard. But with the swing down, Hakyeon wouldn’t be there, would he. There was a vampire _somewhere_ , because the wards were seething. Maybe the roof. He didn’t like not knowing, but then, he didn’t like them being here in the first place. He deserved peace. His loves deserved peace. Jaehwan looked like he was coming to pieces and Hongbin was too young to have to deal with vampires on his doorstep this way. Taekwoon wasn’t sure how long he could stay in, how many nights he could do this, sit in the house as the wards tittered, pecking at his brain. 

“Fucking Hakyeon,” he muttered, stalking down the hallway and into his bedroom. He closed the door behind himself before he yanked his sweater off over his head, the black tank top underneath riding up as well. Impatiently, he tugged it back down over his stomach, tossing the sweater onto his bed. He made to undo his belt, then paused, thinking better of it. 

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he figured, and he turned his light off, and once his eyes adjusted, he went to his window and yanked up the blinds. His window looked out into the side of their property, which was just a thin strip of concrete and then a tall wooden fence. Above it loomed the stormy sky, the moon and stars fighting to be seen through the thinner spots of the clouds.

Taekwoon unlatched his window and slid it open, gasping as the night air washed over him. “Hakyeon,” he said into the night, “I know you’re here.”

“I am,” a voice replied from above. So, the roof it was.

“Show yourself,” Taekwoon said, the weight of the armor for the coming battle already exhausting him. 

Hakyeon was there, then, in the space in front of the window, facing Taekwoon. It only gave Taekwoon a mild start, mostly it made his stomach swoop unpleasantly, his head feeling a bit too light for an awful few seconds. But he was inside, and Hakyeon was not, and that would keep him safe. The monster could prowl outside the castle, the walls would not give.

“We’re not going out tonight either,” Taekwoon said, fighting to keep his voice steady, to hold himself together. To not give Hakyeon any pieces of himself tonight. 

It was hard, harder than Taekwoon thought it would be. He wanted Hakyeon to smile at him. Anger, ever present, was easily summoned in response to that desire. This vampire had come, and sunk into him, and Taekwoon hated it. He’d lost sight of his goals.

Hakyeon tilted his head to the side, that soft, gentle bemusement on his face. He was wearing a black turtleneck tonight, to match his black pants, his black hair. A specter of death, like the first night they’d met. Death, death, death. “Well, alright?” he said, head tipping. “Sleep well, then.”

Goosebumps skittered over Taekwoon’s skin, but the anger warmed him from the inside, surging up like a tidal wave. “I can’t. I can’t because you’re here. We’re not leaving, not tonight, so you can go.”

Hakyeon opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I can’t go,” he said. 

“ _Why_?”

“I have to keep an eye on you,” Hakyeon said quietly. There was a small hitch between his brows. “I— we’re— we understand each other a bit more, now, I think, but I still have to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

Taekwoon snarled, blunt teeth no doubt utterly unthreatening. “Making sure you don’t lose track of your investments, more like,” he said, hating how ugly he sounded. Hating everything about himself, his life. “You’ve put a lot of time into me, after all.”

Hakyeon did not rise to the bait. Quite the opposite, he sighed, deflating, one hand coming up to hold his upper arm, defensive. “Why are you so determined to take five steps backwards, every time you take one step forward? I’m tired, kitten.” 

It was like Taekwoon’s fuse had been sparking, slowly being eaten away, and it had run out of length and hit the dynamite. “So am I!” he cried, so suddenly Hakyeon actually looked startled. “I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like the wards are chipping at my sanity. All we want is for you to leave. I want this to be over.”

Hakyeon did not look at him. He looked at the window sill, the uneven plaster of Taekwoon’s room, the jut of the roof. “I said I won’t force you for— anything,” he said, very softly, “and I won’t. But I need the spell, Taekwoon. Until I have it— we will be here. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t have it,” Taekwoon said fiercely, “because I know our lives will be over once you get it.”

Hakyeon’s gaze snapped to meet his, his face twisting like Taekwoon had struck him. “How can you say that?” he asked, and the raw upset in his voice took Taekwoon off guard. “How can you still think— after the last few nights— you’re starting to know me, Taekwoon. I’m not a monster. I’m a person. Like you.”

_Like you_. Taekwoon brimmed with loathing, hate. He hated that they had parallels. He hated that those parallels made him feel less alone. And he hated that the hurt in Hakyeon’s voice caused his chest to ache. “Maybe you are a person,” Taekwoon said, lowly, like if he said it softly enough, it wouldn’t be a sin, “but you’re a vampire, too. And I think, in the end, that will always come out at the top of it all, won’t it?” The words were spoken to Hakyeon, but he felt more like he was reminding himself of a truth he kept forgetting, in the face of Hakyeon’s beautiful eyes. 

Hakyeon was shaking his head before Taekwoon was even finished speaking. “I’m an Elimia, I’m not going to hurt you—”

Taekwoon reached for his nightstand before he could over think it, snatching up his hunting dagger. The hilt felt like Jaehwan’s hands had, cold and fizzy. Hakyeon stilled.

“You keep saying that, like it’s a shield, but an Elimia is nothing but a type of vampire. A cobra is still a snake. You can’t hide behind another label because you think it is sweeter,” Taekwoon said. Unlike Jaehwan’s hands, the hilt of the dagger was quickly warming in Taekwoon’s grasp. It wanted blood. Like the creature in front of him. “And I’m human. I’m nothing to vampires, just food. A bloodbag, as your kind says. You want me to trust you, get on my back for you, but why should I believe _anything_ you say? It’s all just a means to an end. I’m just a means to an end.” He’d been so foolish.

Hakyeon didn't acknowledge his words, his eyes trained on the blade at Taekwoon’s side. “Are you taking me up on my offer, Taekwoon?” he asked softly. “Do you want to kill me after all?”

Taekwoon brought the dagger up to chest-level, fingers tight around the hilt. His heart was pounding, sweat prickling at his hairline. “No,” he murmured, eyes going from the glint of silver to Hakyeon’s eyes. “You’ve spent so much effort trying to show me that you’re not a monster. That there’s something human left to you. But when you get down to it—” Taekwoon raised the dagger more, placing the tip just above the neckline of his tank top. Hakyeon’s eyes widened, lips parting, in the split second before Taekwoon pressed the dagger into his own skin and dragged it over in a sharp motion, opening up a long thin cut under his left collarbone. Hakyeon jerked, a small sound escaping his parted lips. It drowned out Taekwoon’s hiss of pain, as the blood welled up and began to spill out.

“Ah,” Hakyeon murmured, swaying forward, before he couldn’t come any nearer because the house wards stopped him. His lashes fluttered, and Taekwoon could see his chest rise on an inhale. 

“When you get down to it,” Taekwoon repeated softly, tossing the dagger onto his bed in a casual move, “you’re not human anymore, not at all. And this, this will always bring that to the surface.” It was Taekwoon’s last word. Blood. Blood would always show. Chills skittered over Taekwoon’s skin, because bleeding in front of a vampire went against every instinct he had. The cut stung, throbbing. Hakyeon may have been outside but he was still so close, too close, and he was breathing deeply, scenting, the tips of his fangs showing through his parted lips.

_It was never about me_ , Taekwoon thought. _It has always been about the blood, about wanting to tame me_. He’d known it, he’d always known it, but it still almost hurt, the way Hakyeon’s eyes were fixed on the blood coming from the wound.

“Oh, kitten,” Hakyeon whispered. Seemingly with effort, he looked up to meet Taekwoon’s eyes. “This isn’t all I am. Not any more than it is all you are.”

Anger roiled noxious and heavy like a storm in Taekwoon’s gut. He shuffled forward a little, until his toes bumped into the wall. With one hand, he braced himself on the window sill, and the other he brought up, fingertips touching the wound, the blood seeping out. It was warm on his fingertips, and he brought his bloody hand up, between them, still inside the wards of the house, but just barely. Hakyeon’s eyes dropped again, to the blood shining wetly on Taekwoon’s fingertips. He was panting slightly, gaze a bit unfocused.

“Isn’t it?” Taekwoon asked softly. He could see his own fingertips trembling. He knew he was right.

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said thickly, “it isn’t about the blood.” He inhaled deeply, whimpering afterwards, eyes fluttering closed. “It’s about you. And everything I feel for you. Yes, if you’re simply looking at the core of it, blood is sustenance for vampires. But this is so much more.”

“More?” Taekwoon echoed, and Hakyeon opened his eyes, looking past Taekwoon’s bloody fingertips and into his eyes. Taekwoon could feel the blood dripping, a line going down his palm, to the bony jut of his wrist.

“The act of taking blood is more,” Hakyeon said. “It’s— intimate, is it not? A sacrifice, a gift. A piece of someone.”

Taekwoon moved his hand a bit further out, and Hakyeon’s eyes went back to the blood. “You want this,” Taekwoon said, because that was the bottom line, really. Hakyeon could spin it any way he wanted, the bottom line was he wanted to eat Taekwoon. He wanted to kill him.

“Yes,” Hakyeon whispered. Taekwoon moved his hand, a little to the left, just to see Hakyeon track the movement, his body leaning, those sharp canines still glinting in the low light. “But not because I want you for food, Taekwoon. Would you begrudge a human lover, for wanting to kiss you as a prelude to sex? Blood and sex are tied for my kind. I simply want _you_. In every way. It’s all pieces of one whole. I want to bite you, yes, but I also want to touch you and kiss you and fuck you.”

Taekwoon’s stomach swooped, and the blush washed over him, warmth prickling all over his face. He wasn’t used to someone who was so casual, so candid, about their desires. Let alone their desires for him. As Taekwoon watched, Hakyeon’s eyes darkened. Taekwoon wanted out of this moment, but he felt like he was in a car that’d had its brake lines snipped. He couldn’t stop it. He’d cut the brakes himself.

“You’re saying— I’m supposed to believe if I said yes to you, if I gave you permission to bite me, that you wouldn’t simply drain me?” Taekwoon asked, shaky. “The look on your face says otherwise.”

Hakyeon’s mouth twisted; it was almost a smile. “What you’re reading as bloodlust is simple lust, you silly little cat,” he said, and Taekwoon’s heart stuttered. Hakyeon heard it, he must have, because the smile widened. It wasn’t predatory, but neither was it soft. It was _burning_. When Hakyeon blinked, his eyelids were slow to come back up. “And it bears saying that you’ve already said yes to me.”

Taekwoon stiffened. He’d heard that the permission didn’t have to be verbal— it was always about intent. But he hadn’t meant— he— “I’m inside the house.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you even if you weren’t.”

Wouldn’t he? Was Taekwoon really going to do this. His trembling intensified, heat settled suffocatingly against his skin.

Hakyeon had handed Taekwoon a silver dagger and pressed it to his own chest, whispered, _Look me in the eyes and kill me_. And Taekwoon hadn’t. Had it been trust, or arrogance. 

What was it now, for Taekwoon.

Taekwoon let his hand dip a little, going further out, until it was definitely outside of the house wards, until Hakyeon’s panting breaths were ghosting over his skin, his eyes boring holes into Taekwoon’s. He didn’t quite dare touch Hakyeon, not like this, with blood smeared over his skin. Even this was foolish, so foolish—

Hakyeon‘s hands came up, slow, very slowly, giving Taekwoon time to pull back before he wrapped those hands around Taekwoon’s wrist. His skin was almost hot, and his hold was _there_ , but it was gentle, steadying rather than confining. Then he was pulling Taekwoon’s hand the rest of the way, lips parting so he could lick a line from Taekwoon’s wrist to the tip of his index finger, lapping at the blood. 

Taekwoon made a noise, something just short of a gasp, and flinched. It made Hakyeon pause, momentarily, lips just brushing Taekwoon’s fingertips. But when Taekwoon didn’t pull away, Hakyeon ducked down again, gaze still holding Taekwoon’s, and licked up his middle finger. When he reached the tip, and his tongue pulled back into his mouth, Taekwoon caught the crimson flash of blood. Hakyeon swallowed, eyes hooded. 

_This is wrong_ , Taekwoon thought, but it was dull, matter of fact, and very far away. He felt breathless, mesmerized. Was this the glamour, he wondered, as Hakyeon licked at the few drops on his ring finger. After that, the blood was gone.

Hakyeon pulled back a bit, eyes glazed, redness lingering on his lips. He was holding Taekwoon’s wrist a bit harder, but not, seemingly, deliberately. His pupils were blown. “Thank you,” Hakyeon said thickly. His fangs were still run out, and, for a very brief flash, Taekwoon wanted to lean out the window and let Hakyeon sink them into his neck. 

His stomach swooped at the thought, in dread, but also, horrifyingly, in arousal. Taekwoon tugged his hand out of Hakyeon’s grasp— Hakyeon let him go easily. His heart continued to pound even though he was back within the wards now, safe. Taekwoon had been trying to prove a point— and he had, he supposed. Hakyeon wanted his blood. But he hadn’t hurt him, hadn’t violated him, hadn’t taken more than was offered. 

It was getting so hard to hate him, and oh, how Taekwoon wanted to hate him. He cradled his hand to his chest, the blood from the cut already growing tacky where it seeped into the neckline of his tank top. Hakyeon watched him lazily, seeming slightly drunk. Blood drunk.

“Thank you for the sustenance?” Taekwoon asked, trying to be sharp with it but he was too shaky. It had gotten him off. Hakyeon’s mouth, his tongue, warm on his skin, had made him achingly hard. He was disgusted with himself and distinctly wrong-footed. His own reaction had caught him unawares. 

Hakyeon licked his lips, slow, almost catlike. “Blood is magic, and I need to it to exist,” he said softly. “I don’t take it for granted when it is given to me. Even in small amounts. So yes, thank you. For the blood, and for trusting me.” 

“I don’t trust you,” Taekwoon said harshly. 

Hakyeon blinked at him, his eyes dark and lovely. “No,” he murmured. “Not completely. Especially not when you— you start, you give a bit, and then you pull back so viciously. But, Taekwoon, I’m not going to hurt you. I think deep down you know that. I don’t know why you’re fighting the notion so much.” Taekwoon’s face twisted, but he didn’t know what to say to that, what he could say. He wondered if Hakyeon could smell his arousal, could taste the lies in his blood. “You know, if you let me lick that wound, it’ll heal faster.”

Taekwoon jerked back, hand instinctively covering up the cut. “No,” he said immediately. It wasn’t that the idea scared him, though it should, leaning out the window for a vampire to have access. Rather, he was afraid of his own reaction. Even just the thought— Taekwoon’s cock throbbed, and he pressed his hips to the wall, grateful Hakyeon couldn’t see any part of him below his waistband.

Hakyeon smiled, and his teeth were bright white even in the dim, and the fangs were twin warnings that Taekwoon knew he wasn’t going to heed. “It was worth a shot,” Hakyeon said. “But for true, you should clean it up— did you know we have knives for cutting feeders who don’t like to be bitten? Spelled so the wounds heal cleanly and quickly. I can’t imagine a dagger made for killing vampires will inspire healing.”

Taekwoon had not known that. He hadn’t thought a vampire would be so— considerate. “How polite of you,” Taekwoon said. His mouth twisted. “I’d like to be alone, now.”

Hakyeon’s smile dimmed. “I wish you’d let me take you to bed,” he whispered, and Taekwoon flushed. “I wish you’d let me help you forget all the things that weigh on your heart.”

“You’re one of those things,” Taekwoon said, and Hakyeon looked down, at his own hands, braced on the sill, quietly thoughtful. “Jaehwan’s dying, and this— you aren’t helping. All the lurking around, the wards, keeping him here. He deserves peace.”

“I—” Hakyeon licked his lips, nervously. His fangs clicked away, his nose scrunching as they went. “We’ve been in contact with someone who might be able to give us a bit of insight on his condition. She’s not a sorceress but she is a Seer, and she is good at what she does. I think she can, perhaps, help him. Or help him help himself.” He glanced up, almost tentative, like a child offering a gift they dearly wanted the receiver to like. “We can take him to see her, whenever you like. If you want.” 

Taekwoon— what did Taekwoon even want? Jaehwan to be healthy, for the grey in his hair to darken again, the color to come back to his skin. And Hongbin, Hongbin to be happy again, to smile and joke without the barbs hiding in each word. And Taekwoon—

_One thing at a time_.

“Tomorrow night,” Taekwoon muttered, and Hakyeon perked up. “We’ll go tomorrow night to see this— this Seer. Me and Jaehwan. I don’t want you to come.”

That gave Hakyeon pause. He stared, eyes searching. Taekwoon wished he wouldn’t. “One of us will have to come,” Hakyeon said slowly, and Taekwoon gave a one shouldered shrug. It made the cut pull, and he hissed, new blood oozing out. Hakyeon whimpered, hands clenching on the window sill.

“Send one of your brats then,” Taekwoon said impatiently. He needed this conversation to be over, needed to get away from the temptation that was Hakyeon’s shining lower lip. “I don’t care, so long as it isn’t you.”

Hakyeon didn’t react, face a mask of neutrality. The wooden window sill, however, was beginning to creak beneath his grip. “Are you afraid of me, now that I’ve tasted you?” he asked.

Taekwoon’s hand— the one Hakyeon had lapped at, had drug his tongue over, mouthing at the tips of his fingers— clenched, and he pressed it against his stomach. “No,” Taekwoon whispered, feeling his cheeks burn with shame and want. “I’m afraid of myself.”

Hakyeon’s mouth dropped open slightly, eyes widening for a flash. It seemed as good a moment as any, and Taekwoon gripped the window, sliding it shut. He brought the blinds back down, shutting them, but not before he saw that Hakyeon’s fangs had run out again.

——

This probably wasn’t the best idea, but Hongbin wasn’t in the best mental state. Or the best mood. So, when he caught sight of a familiar silver-haired vampire sitting out on the porch again, he made an executive decision.

He slammed the back door open, gratified when Wonshik looked up in a snap, seemingly, for a split second, startled. He was wearing another plain shirt and jeans, giant obnoxious sneakers, and in his hands was a tablet, of all things. It seemed utterly incongruous, an immortal being, using modern technology. 

“Are you the sucker who talked to my mother?” Hongbin asked, holding his phone up in case Wonshik needed a bit of a reminder. 

Wonshik hit a button on the side of the tablet that made the screen go dark. The loss of illumination on his face was a bit unsettling; Hongbin didn’t like not being able to see his expression. “It is stupid, you know,” Wonshik rumbled, his voice giving Hongbin goosebumps, “to keep coming out of your home, when you know a vampire is near, and you have that spell in your blood.”

Hongbin’s lip curled. His canines weren’t vampire-sharp but they got the point across. “Bite me, fuckface,” he said, and he had enough light to see Wonshik raise his eyebrow. He knew Wonshik wouldn’t kill him— or rather, if he did kill him, Hakyeon would probably shove a silver stake up his ass. That wouldn’t undeadify Hongbin, but the thought was a comfort. “Answer my question.”

Wonshik had been reclining in the old wicker chair, but now he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and surveying Hongbin. Hongbin tipped his chin up, looking down his nose at Wonshik.

“Your mother called, I answered,” Wonshik finally said. 

Hongbin let out a breath between his teeth. “Asshole,” he said. Wonshik frowned. “You had no right— and my phone screen is cracked—”

“It was cracked when Hakyeon picked it up,” Wonshik cut him off. “And I did nothing to your mother and nor do I intend to.” Hongbin wasn’t sure he believed that. No, scratch that, he did not believe it at all. “I have a question too.”

“You can’t ask me questions, that isn’t how this relationship works,” Hongbin snapped. He tossed his phone into Wonshik’s lap. “Fix it. You fucker.”

Wonshik picked the phone up gingerly. It looked small in his hands. Hongbin was pissed. “Fix it?” Wonshik asked.

“Yes, fix it,” Hongbin said, more slowly. “I disabled the service, so don’t even— don’t— don’t try anything fancy.”

Wonshik twirled the phone over and over in his hands. “You don’t have any siblings.”

“Did the internet tell you that?” Hongbin asked, hiding how unsettled he was at the idea of Wonshik fettering out their old lives. This was so not good. Hakyeon couldn’t know—

“No, it was a guess, based on your charming personality,” Wonshik said. Hongbin made himself relax.

“Whatever,” Hongbin muttered, turning away from Wonshik to go back inside. “Fix my phone, because you almost ate me, and then you spoke to my mother without asking me. After that you can fuck off into the sunrise—”

There was suddenly a hand on the door, holding it shut. Hongbin went cold, very quickly, but he held his fear in check. Panicking never did any good. Not around vampires. 

Wonshik was against his side. His posture was relaxed. Hongbin tried to imitate him, but being this close to a vampire was awful. They were of a height, but their builds were different, Wonshik was sturdier in ways. Not that it mattered. Even if he was a twig he could grind Hongbin to dust without even having to try.

“What?” Hongbin asked, squinting at Wonshik’s face, the picture of casualness. His pounding heart would betray him, of course it would. That was what hearts did. 

Wonshik studied his face for a moment. “You are a real piece of work,” he muttered, then added, in a normal tone, “You owe me a question. That is the new rule.”

Hongbin inhaled deeply. “No,” he said simply, tugging at the doorknob but Wonshik’s hand kept the door from moving. “I’ll scream, I swear I will—”

“Taekwoon has siblings,” Wonshik said, low, fast, and Hongbin’s words dried up in his mouth. Oh God. “Tell me, Hongbin. Tell me about his brother.”

Hongbin held Wonshik’s gaze for a long moment, stunned into horrified silence. Wonshik waited, staring, taking him apart. He wasn’t so ugly, this close up.

Hongbin opened his mouth and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank u for all the people who leave comments or send me asks on ask.fm encouraging me, you all help more than you know. you keep my feels going for this fic and i really appreciate it ;;;;;; i'm sorry i am so bad at replying to comments sobs


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> recently, i saw someone recommending this fic to a friend, saying, "the plot is slow to start up, but it is worth it." and this baffled me. because the main plot hasn't started yet. like. idk what y'all are thinking the main plotline is, bUT IT HASN'T ARRIVED YET. AND CONSIDERING WE'RE 100K IN NOW, I'M REALLY SALTY ABOUT IT.

The night was cold, but Hakyeon wasn’t bothered, never would be. His breath steamed up the glass in front of his face, as he tried to get himself in control, resurface from his instincts. The memory of blood on his tongue was fresh, crisp, as striking as the frigid air.

Taekwoon, beyond the glass, beyond the blinds, was moving around his room. Hakyeon could hear him shuffling, could hear the pounding of his heart, and, worst of all, could hear his slight panting breaths. Hakyeon wanted to press his lips to Taekwoon’s, wanted Taekwoon to gasp into his mouth. The scent of Taekwoon’s want lingered like a haze over Hakyeon’s mind. 

In a minute, or five, Hakyeon wasn’t sure, Taekwoon left his room, shutting off the lights. The lack of amber glow seeping through the blinds meant Hakyeon could see his own reflection in the foggy glass. He looked, for lack of a better phrasing, like he’d been ridden hard and put away wet. It made him feel young, feel new. He hadn’t been so drunk on lust in decades. It was surprisingly invigorating. 

Patience was a virtue, and Hakyeon knew Taekwoon was going to be well worth the wait and effort. Because it was finally looking like Taekwoon yielding to him was no longer an _if_ , but rather a _when_. 

Hakyeon leaned forward, pressing his cheek against the cold glass, and whimpered. 

He was only allowed a few moments of piteous whining before he heard a voice cry out. It was quick, barely uttered before it was cut off, but to his vampire ears it had been distinct amongst the sounds of the night. 

“Wonshik,” Hakyeon all but growled, moving like a shadow towards where the sound had come from. When he reached the backyard, his feet planting in the overlong grass, he took in the scene quickly. In the porch’s sickly yellow light he glanced over Hongbin pinned to the back door by Wonshik, fingers bent into claws, caught in Wonshik’s shirt. He would have been screaming, Hakyeon sensed, if Wonshik didn’t have a hand over his mouth. 

“Wonshik,” Hakyeon said again, but louder, voice cracking like a whip. He moved from the grass to the concrete, standing at the base of the stairs leading up to the old wooden porch. The better to glare, he figured. 

Wonshik turned, eyes wide, an expression that said he knew he’d fucked up written across his face. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he said, and Hongbin reached up, scratching at his eyes. Wonshik made a garbled noise and swatted Hongbin’s hands away from his face with his free hand. 

Hakyeon’s post-feeding glow had fizzled up like butter eaten up by an overheated pan. And he was a wee bit perturbed about it. Just. A wee bit. “Explain,” Hakyeon ground out.

“I asked him a question and he did not like it,” Wonshik said. Hongbin made a noise from behind his hand, it sounded vaguely argumentative. He stomped on Wonshik’s foot, but Wonshik’s sneakers were massive and provided some padded protection. Wonshik grimaced anyway. Probably less from the pain and more from the fact that he’d have to clean the shoes. “He was going to scream and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Hakyeon raised an eyebrow. That did sound like Hongbin. From behind Wonshik’s hand, there were vague wet sounds emanating, and Hakyeon got the feeling Hongbin was licking at Wonshik’s palm. “You’re an idiot,” Hakyeon said to Wonshik, and there was decidedly less fondness in the words than usual. Taekwoon wouldn’t be happy about this. Hakyeon didn’t want to deal with another week of sullen angst because he’d sired a socially stunted baboon. Hakyeon didn’t understand. Somehow, Wonshik was able to charm every female feeder he met, they fell over him and curried for his favor. He knew how to read people, how to be clever. So why—

“He’s _difficult_ ,” Wonshik said, and then winced, because Hongbin had bitten him. He lifted his hand from Hongbin’s mouth, and a thick string of saliva followed, Wonshik’s palm shining with it. Hongbin looked viciously pleased over it, cheeks flushed and upper lip curled. He did not scream, but Hakyeon could see in his eyes he was not to be tested on the matter. 

Wonshik’s face twisted in disgust as he looked over his own palm, holding it away from his body. It was clear he didn’t know where to wipe it. So distracted was he, that he didn’t move out of the way in time when Hongbin brought his fist up and swung it. Hakyeon saw it coming, and he opened his mouth to call out a warning but ultimately did not. He rather thought, perhaps, Wonshik needed a good wallop.

And a good wallop it was. Wonshik turned to glance at Hongbin just as Hongbin’s fist connected with his face, and Wonshik’s nose met Hongbin’s knuckles in a match it instantly lost. The crack of cartilage shattering was gruesome, and Hakyeon winced as Wonshik stumbled back, holding his hands to his face. Blood dripped between his fingers, but aside from the initial surprised shout, Wonshik was silent as he stood bent double. The blood hitting the porch’s planks sounded vaguely like rain. 

Hongbin shook his hand out, then reached behind himself blindly for the door. It took a few beats of scrambling for him to get it open. His eyes were trained on Wonshik, not leaving him, and Hakyeon could see, under the fire, that Hongbin was afraid. 

“That’s for— everything,” Hongbin muttered, stepping back within the wards of the house. “Fucking suckers.” The back door closed, sealing Wonshik and Hakyeon outside, alone. They heard the lock click, as if it even mattered, but it was mostly for effect no doubt. Hongbin’s last word. 

The blood pattering gently onto the porch slowed as the minutes ticked by, and Hakyeon waited until Wonshik finally stood back up. His hands dropped from his face, and despite the blood trail, his nose was in one piece again. 

Wonshik glanced at Hakyeon, and somehow, even though he was as tall as a tree, he managed to look like a child. “I botched that,” he rumbled. “I wasn’t expecting him to react so strongly to what I asked him.” 

“Hongbin is a vindictive little cactus of a human. And he is going to tell Taekwoon about this,” Hakyeon said, each word carefully enunciated. He was angrier than he expected. “And if Taekwoon clams back up because of this you’re going to be living off frozen blood bags until he has finally sucked my cock.” 

Wonshik frowned, and he flicked his fingers, blood and saliva flying off his fingertips. Hakyeon stepped back. 

“I’m doing research— like you wanted. I thought it superceded your desire to get Taekwoon underneath you,” Wonshik said smartly, stepping off the porch. 

Hakyeon grumbled, moving away, towards the fallen swing. He wondered if they would leave it here until it corroded into dust. 

“Does it, or does it not?” Wonshik pressed, following on his heels. “Because if it doesn’t, I will have to keep quiet about what I found tonight.” 

Hakyeon tapped the fallen tire with his toe, feeling the rubber rebuff him. He sighed. It was too late to go back. And Wonshik was right. “What did you find?” Hakyeon asked softly. 

Wonshik made to speak, then stopped, looking down at his body, his bloody hands. “My tablet,” he muttered, glancing back at the porch.

Hakyeon heaved another sigh. “You’re an idiot,” he said again, but this time, it was fond. He leapt, was on the porch in a blink. Wonshik’s tablet lay facedown on the porch floorboards, and beside it was a familiar looking phone. Hakyeon picked both items up, turning the phone over in his hand. His nail caught on a crack in the screen. Hongbin.

As if summoned, the back door creaked, and Hakyeon turned in a snap, afraid Hongbin would have dragged Taekwoon to come and drive them off. But no, the door only opened a crack, and through it, Hongbin held out a tattered dish towel. His eye through the crack in the door was squinty as it looked Hakyeon up and down. 

“He’s bleeding all over our shit,” Hongbin said, waving the towel at Hakyeon impatiently. “Make him stop.”

Hakyeon took the towel and Hongbin immediately retreated fully back inside the house, closing and locking the door once more. 

From across the yard, he sent Wonshik a meaningful look. Wonshik stared back, a portrait of innocence, covered in blood. Hakyeon went back to his side, pausing to tuck Hongbin’s phone into Wonshik’s back pocket before he handed him the towel. It was scratchy and smelled artificially flowery, but it would do for the task at hand. Wonshik wiped his hands on it, then tried to find a clean corner to take care of his face.

Hakyeon watched silently for a few beats before he said, quietly, “What did you ask Hongbin?”

Somewhere, an owl hooted. Wonshik didn’t speak at first, devoting his attention to cleaning the blood out from under his nails. “I told you,” he finally said, slowly, “that Taekwoon has siblings.” His hands dropped to his sides, giving up their task. “Girl, girl, boy, girl, Taekwoon.”

Hakyeon hummed, to say he remembered. It felt odd, to stand in the yard like this, trading secrets under an open sky. Anyone could be listening. But Hakyeon knew the humans couldn’t hear, and the trees didn’t care. 

“The older two sisters, both got married, one is divorced. The younger sister is going to university on the other side of the country; running, running far away,” Wonshik said. He met Hakyeon’s gaze, eyes bright. “His parents live in Hope, in a shitty little run down trailer park.”

Hakyeon absorbed that, blinking slowly. He wondered if Taekwoon had lived in that trailer park, had grown out of the dirt. “What about his brother?” Hakyeon asked, already knowing. Someone Taekwoon loved had died at the hands of a vampire, if it wasn’t any of his sisters, or his parents, then—

“I couldn’t find anything on him, nothing recent, so I ran a broader search.” Wonshik’s voice was very soft, and he gently took the tablet from Hakyeon, waking it up and tapping for a few seconds before handing it right back. 

Hakyeon squinted through the glare of the screen. Even on their lowest settings, these things just weren’t made for vampires. Hakyeon could make out a faded scan of a newspaper. The headline read SEVEN LOCAL TEENS MISSING. 

Here it was, Hakyeon thought. The genesis of this noxious poison that ran through Taekwoon’s veins. Hakyeon thought he’d feel some kind of victory, upon the discovery, but the horror in his hands, written across this screen, simply left him cold. _Seven_. Seven was so many children to die at once.

“I asked Hongbin to tell me about Taekwoon’s brother— to see if he could fill me in on Taekwoon’s side of it, the side the papers didn’t cover— but he had a meltdown,” Wonshik muttered. “Which, I suppose, is an answer in itself.”

Hakyeon pressed the power switch on the side of the tablet, making the screen go dark. He’d had his fill of it for the night. “Tell me the rest, I don’t wish to rifle through it,” Hakyeon ordered quietly.

Wonshik took the tablet into his own hands. “Taekwoon’s brother and a group of other kids went missing sixteen years ago,” he said quietly. Hakyeon sank down, sitting on the edge of the fallen tire. The grass reached up, nearly tickling his face. “It really sent shockwaves through the town. Initially, the police thought they might have run away— the kids were all around fifteen, and none of them had money, so that didn’t exactly make sense but— no one in a small town ever thinks vampires, you know?”

Hakyeon closed his eyes. No, they didn’t. As a rule, vampires stayed in large cities, with enough nooks and crannies to keep them sheltered, and a population large enough that taking a victim here and there wouldn’t create much of a ripple. Small towns were too surface to be safe, and they felt it, when someone was taken. Felt it hard and with a personal sort of vengeance. 

Seven.

“When did they figure it out?” Hakyeon murmured.

Wonshik looked up, at the canopy of leaves above them, rubbing at the back of his neck. He was thinking it too, that seven was a magic number, and also, an awful one. Seven fifteen year olds taken. It must have been a nomadic nest. This wasn’t the behavior of one, or even a two or three, vampires, and gangs didn’t usually roam. 

“The group of kids in question apparently went out to the lakeside at night with relative frequency to drink and smoke— real rebels, in a place like that,” Wonshik said. “Once that tidbit of information surfaced, things shifted, people began to wonder if they hadn’t been taken, and not run off. Nothing was found though, not around the lake.”

Wonshik fell silent, not for dramatic effect, but merely to think. Hakyeon let him, sat silently, staring ahead of himself. The smell of blood was still thick in the air. Wonshik should go home, shower. 

“It went cold, the case,” Wonshik whispered. “For a couple years. But then there were some bad rains one spring, and it caused a mudslide at the base of the Hills. It churned up— a body.”

“Taekwoon’s brother,” Hakyeon said immediately, and he sensed rather than saw Wonshik shake his head.

“No, it was a girl, but it got them searching the area for more. They found a boy nearby— but it wasn’t Taekwoon’s brother either. They tried to comb through the Hills but— there is only so much you can do. Too much space to cover, even with magic, even for us,” Wonshik added the last part like he thought Hakyeon might attempt to overturn every rock on the Hills to try and find Taekwoon’s brother’s body. But Hakyeon knew such a task would be pointless and probably fruitless.

“Chances are there aren’t any more bodies there,” Hakyeon said, the words hollow, far away. “With a nest — because no doubt this was the work of a nest — they probably didn’t kill them all at the same time. It is far more likely they killed them one by one, using them as feeders as they roamed.” Even he hated nests. It was no wonder then, that Taekwoon was the way he was. Really, given this new information, what progress he’d made with Hakyeon was utterly shocking. Hakyeon should, perhaps, be a bit softer with him. 

But then, it had happened sixteen years ago. Taekwoon would have been barely old enough to remember his brother. It was then perhaps less a hatred formed on memory and more on principle. Either way, Hakyeon had shaken its foundations, and he had no intention of letting up. Not even given this new information.

Really, this secret could be used to his advantage, but he’d think on that later.

Wonshik knelt in front of Hakyeon, so their faces were level. He still had remnant smears of blood across his face. Hakyeon leaned forward, licking gently at Wonshik’s cheek. Beneath his tongue, Wonshik winced, but he allowed the indignity. When Hakyeon was satisfied, he nudged himself up and kissed the side of Wonshik’s nose. It was well healed now, of course. But Hakyeon felt a bit bad.

“Your mouth smells like blood, human blood,” Wonshik said, softly, so softly, but his voice rumbled even more for it. Sometimes, Hakyeon missed the way Wonshik used to croon at him. “Taekwoon let you feed on him?” 

“No,” Hakyeon replied. He sat back, away, and Wonshik settled more firmly into his crouch. “He simply let me have a taste. Which, given this new information, is rather striking. I— I’ve been a bit callous, I’m afraid. I knew yes, someone he knew had died at the hands of a vampire. But I always assumed it was the usual sort— as if that somehow makes it less horrific. As if dying in a back alleyway from blood loss is not a terrible tragedy in itself.” He swallowed, looking down at his legs curled up in the grass. Wonshik reached out, put his hand on Hakyeon’s knee, and Hakyeon covered his hand with both of his own. “It must have been awful, growing up and knowing this person he’d admired and loved had not just been killed but been taken captive, been terrified for days or even weeks, watching his friends die one by one. And so young, Wonshik. Why do nests take them so young.”

“They take easy prey, and sadly, young people often make themselves convenient targets,” Wonshik said, his thumb rubbing over Hakyeon’s bony knee. He heaved a heavy sigh. “I still haven’t found anything on Jaehwan— but I feel certain he must be from Hope as well. He and Hongbin both.”

“Things will surface in time,” Hakyeon said. He gave Wonshik’s hand a gentle squeeze, smiling wanly. “Go home, dear one. Tell Sanghyuk to inform the Witch we’ll be coming tomorrow night. And then rest.”

Wonshik blinked. “Taekwoon agreed to meeting her?”

“To help Jaehwan, yes,” Hakyeon said, releasing Wonshik’s hand and waving him off. Wonshik stood, touched Hakyeon’s jaw lightly, and then was gone.

Hakyeon remained where he’d sat, a statue, a sentry, and stared with unblinking eyes at the glowing kitchen window.

——

They needed a new porch light. Hongbin could barely make out the shadowy figures of the vampires in the yard. Not that he needed to see them well. He knew they were talking. He knew what Wonshik was saying to Hakyeon. He knew this wasn’t good.

The pantry door opened, and Jaehwan stepped out, squinting in the kitchen light. Sometimes, it was like the pantry was a door to another dimension, and Jaehwan was some kind of mythical creature, for all that he wore sweatpants and holey socks. Tonight was one of those nights, for whatever reason. Jaehwan shimmered with magic. 

He padded over to stand by Hongbin’s side, peering out the kitchen window with him. “What is it?” he asked. 

“The vampires,” Hongbin said, mouth feeling dry, like someone had laid cotton over his tongue. He didn’t know how to say this. There wasn’t a gentle way, nothing that could soften the blow. “They’ve found out about Jisoo.”

In his peripheral, he saw Jaehwan’s face whip around to stare at him, his eyes seeming alien. Though when Hongbin turned towards him, he saw Jaehwan as he always was; ethereal in his own way but decidedly human. 

“Oh no,” Jaehwan whispered, and above them, the lightbulbs flickered. Hongbin tapped a finger sharply on the back of Jaehwan’s pale hand— his own knuckles were reddened from punching Wonshik in the face.

“None of that,” Hongbin said, and Jaehwan closed his eyes, took a breath, and the lights stabilized. “There’s nothing to be done for it. I’m surprised it took them this long, to be honest.”

“Taekwoon is going to freak out,” Jaehwan said, lips barely moving. He didn’t open his eyes, was still deep breathing. “I hope they don’t try to barter with it.”

“What do you mean?” Hongbin asked, and Jaehwan opened his mouth to answer before snapping it shut, because there was the soft sound of footsteps suddenly coming from the living room. Jaehwan’s eyes shot open, and both he and Hongbin looked to the entrance of the kitchen. Taekwoon slunk in, his face flushed, hairline damp. He was wearing a plain black tee, instead of his usual tank top, which was odd, but not unduly so. 

Taekwoon stopped, when he noticed their focused attention. Hongbin looked away, in an attempt to make them appear less guilty. “What is it?” Taekwoon asked. 

“The vampires—” Jaehwan began, and Hongbin might have elbowed him, if he thought it would go unnoticed, “—they’re hanging around out back.”

Taekwoon came to stare out of the window, wedging himself between the two of them. He was quite warm, and Hongbin could almost feel his fluttering pulse. “Both of them?” Taekwoon asked, squinting at the darkness outside.

“Wonshik just left,” Hongbin said. He studied Taekwoon’s profile, the delicate redness over his cheeks and nose bridge. 

Taekwoon nodded, like he’d expected that. “I spoke to Hakyeon,” he said, and Hongbin may have imagined it, but his cheeks seemed to get even pinker. “The vampires know a Seer, apparently, that they think will possibly be able to help Jaehwan.” He looked to his right, at Jaehwan, and Hongbin couldn’t see either of their faces. “I told Hakyeon we’d go see her tomorrow— if that is okay with you?”

Hongbin couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was decidedly _wrong_ with Taekwoon. It was in the stiffness of his shoulders, the stiltedness of his mouth around the words he spoke. Jaehwan leaned, a little, meeting Hongbin’s eye around Taekwoon’s body, and he sensed it too, from the look of it.

“Alright,” Jaehwan said slowly, glancing back up at Taekwoon. “It couldn’t hurt, I guess. We’ll see what she can do.”

Taekwoon nodded stiffly, and after a moment he turned and left the room again. The tense way he held his shoulders was at odds with the flush on the back of his neck. Once he was gone, Hongbin looked at Jaehwan and raised an eyebrow in question. Jaehwan pressed his lips together and looked back to the window.

——

It was a strange phenomenon, how during their nights everything could be so utterly wrong, and yet the sun would rise, and the day would settle into a normalcy that was almost jarring for its monotony. Taekwoon drove along the streets of downtown, looking through the windows of other cars, and wondered at the lives of the passengers. Wondered at how he could blend in when he was so different. How many others, he wondered, were the same. How many people rung up groceries during the day but at night went home and got high off powdered demon bones, how many hair dressers were thinking of their next visit to a feeder bar, how many lawyers were thing-thralls for an incubus. All of them chugging along and playing their roles as a cog in the machine during the daylight hours, but the darkness would come and claim them when the sun left all the same. 

Taekwoon felt so out of place in the bright winter sunlight, like it would shine through his skin and muscle and bone and bare things better left hidden. 

This would have been a good day, in the past. No work, his only obligation was to take Hongbin to his job, maybe make dinner. Quiet, soft, a day for reading and sweaters and tea. But he was haunted by the heavy memory of the previous night, by the fact that the coming sunset would bring Hakyeon to him again. By the fact that this couldn’t be stopped.

He was barely even trying, anymore. Resisting was getting so exhausting, but surrender just seemed sick.

When he turned back onto his street, he eased off the gas, letting the car coast. Everything looked the same, visually, small houses with browning lawns, trees going bare in the cold. It was surreal. Nothing was the same, for Taekwoon. 

Their house was quiet when he pulled into the driveway, and why shouldn’t it be. They had peace, during the day. Taekwoon got out of his car, the cold air immediately sinking into the more delicate joints of his body. Before he locked the car up he grabbed his purchase from the hardware store out of the backseat.

It would be a quiet sort of day, he rather thought. He’d be alone, Jaehwan below ground and sleeping, Hongbin at work. 

Instead of going in through the front door, he took the side gate around into the back yard, heading to their old sturdy oak tree and dropping his bag at its roots like an offering. He eyed the branch above himself, and then the fallen tire in turn, contemplating how to go about this.

In the end he dragged a ladder from the shed, and a blade with a serrated side. His first step was getting the old rope off the tire, which took several moments of sawing. It might have gone faster, but his fingers were already numb from cold.

It was nice, having his hands busy, making his brain think about the mechanics of his own movements. When he went to heave the tire upright, he was surprised by how heavy it was, and his shoulder twinged. It was still sore from its dislocation. Idly, he wondered if it would always be sore, if he’d just have a finicky shoulder until he was eighty. 

_Hakyeon_ , Taekwoon thought with a scowl, aggressively tying the new rope he’d bought around the tire. His fingertips were almost lavender in the cold, skin a pale contrast to the cracked grey of the tire. Abruptly, like someone had stabbed a needle into him, loaded with poison, he remembered Hakyeon’s mouth on these hands, tongue pressed to these fingertips. Remembered the warmth of it, the dampness, Hakyeon’s lashes fluttering. 

Taekwoon bit his bottom lip, staring at his hands. He’d washed them, scrubbed them, but this wasn’t a surface issue. He could wash the evidence away all he wanted, the remnant smears of blood and spit, the come stained on his skin from afterwards, when he’d locked himself in the bathroom and shoved his filthy hands into his sweatpants. Yes, water would take care of that, so he could keep it hidden from the others, but that was all it could do. The memories would remain, and Taekwoon didn’t have the mercy, this time, of alcohol in his system to dilute them, no. Nothing could take this from him. 

“Please,” Taekwoon whispered, letting his head hang down, forehead coming to rest on the backs of his hands sitting on the tire, “please, let him not come tonight.”

——

Tonight. Tonight. _Tonight_.

Jaehwan was going out.

It had taken some time, for that to sink in. At first, he had been more concerned with the repercussions of the vampires finding out about Taekwoon’s brother, and then in turn had been puzzling about Taekwoon’s odd behavior. He almost wondered if the cause was that Hakyeon had already confronted him about Jisoo, but he dismissed that idea. Taekwoon would be far more riled. No, they’d dodged that bullet for now. If Hakyeon had any sense he wouldn’t bring it up at all, wouldn’t try to barter for Taekwoon’s favor by offering to solve that particular mystery.

Jaehwan put those thoughts out of his mind. He had other things to focus on. The Seer wasn’t coming to them, they were going to see her. Which meant Jaehwan was going on a field trip.

He went out so very little. It wasn’t that he couldn’t go out on his own, without occasion— it was simply that he was limited. Many, most, businesses closed after dark, and Jaehwan didn’t trust himself, if he was very honest, being in a place with too many strangers anyway. Someone brushing against him would feel the energy sitting on his skin, a shout too loud could startle him into bursting a lightbulb— or worse. A great majority of people wouldn’t piece the signs together, but the danger lay in those who would. Jaehwan did not fancy a stint in prison. 

And then where else could he go? For a walk to the park, the canal, but run the risk of a vampire attack, or a were, or demon. It just seemed foolish. So he stayed home. In his mind, it was never a permanent thing— he would remain home until he sorted his little issue out. But the days had stretched to weeks, months, then years. Two of them, in fact. Two years. 

Jaehwan peered up at his ceiling, the raw beams and scratchy chalk marks. He didn’t honestly think a Seer would be able to piece through his little problem, and no doubt, that was what the vampires were hoping for— helping him was only secondary, their primary focus was the spell. But Jaehwan knew the powers in him were greater than what a Seer could ever compete with. His secrets were safe. Still, it would be interesting, to see what she would say.

He looked to the low dresser against the wall, then at the mirror, covered a long time ago by a small sheet. Mirrors could be dangerous things, and he generally avoided them because the uptick in surface energy he possessed tended to shatter them, if he wasn’t paying attention. 

But today he would pay attention. 

It didn’t matter how he looked, he knew, he could look like a sea slug and it wouldn’t change his abilities. But perceptions had power, in their way, and he wanted to not look weak, at the least. So he plucked the sheet off the mirror, letting it pool on the cement ground, and looked at himself properly for the first time in a good year.

It was almost disappointing. The sheer volume of magic in his veins had stunted him, and he looked younger than he even was, and he was young enough. He hadn’t aged, he had simply— diminished. Grown paler and skinnier, waist so slim Taekwoon could probably encircle it with his hands. Not that he would. Taekwoon was stunted in his own way.

Jaehwan scowled at his reflection. He had so much grey in his hair, and he ran his hands through it, getting it off his face. That was a look, one he rather liked, tipping his head this way and that. Nothing could erase the smudges under his eyes, but having his hair swept up at least made his cheekbones pretty.

And what to wear. He didn’t have a lot in terms of that, and even less items that fit well. They’d never had money, and Jaehwan had never had much fashion sense. It was something Taekwoon had used to tease him for, as if Taekwoon would talk. The man would live in Nirvana tank tops and oversized striped sweaters if he got the choice. 

In the end Jaehwan picked out a simple black turtleneck— covering his throat around vampires seemed like a wise choice. And he didn’t fool himself; he knew at least one of the vampires would be joining them tonight. He paired it with the only jeans that fit him snugly still, and combat boots that he hadn’t worn in so long they had a layer of dust on them. He would steal Hongbin’s coat when the sun set— the pretty middling grey overcoat he’d gotten as a gift from his mother for his birthday last year. Hongbin was the only one of them who’d ever had money. 

And _had_ was the operative term. 

Jaehwan dug out some hair gel, stored uncomfortably next to the frog eggs, just to make sure his hair stayed put. Once that was done, he had to admit perhaps black was not the best choice of color to wear; it made him look even paler, almost translucent. Almost dead. Lips faded out and eyelids lavender. 

He blinked. His eyes were so sunken. 

The mirror shattered.

Jaehwan yelped, stepping back sharply, grateful he’d already put on shoes. His hip knocked painfully against the edge of his dresser. 

Muffled footsteps, and then there was a knock on his little trapdoor. “Jaehwan?” Taekwoon called.

“I’m alright,” Jaehwan called back, kneeling with a sigh. “I broke my mirror.”

There was the soft sound of shuffling. “Can I come in? The sun just went down.”

“May as well,” Jaehwan said, and then the trap door was opening, Taekwoon stepping down. He shivered, as he did so, wearing only a white t-shirt (frayed) and jeans (even more frayed). “Careful, there’s glass.”

“I can see that,” Taekwoon said, stopping short just outside the pool of broken shards. Jaehwan carefully picked up a larger chunk, setting it atop another. His eyelids weren’t lavender in the flash of reflection he caught, his lips pretty pink. Mirrors were dangerous. “Leave it, Jae. I’ll have Hongbin pick it up while we’re gone.”

“He isn’t coming with us, tonight?” Jaehwan asked. He stood, holding another jagged piece of mirror. “Was he naughty? Did you ground him?”

“He exacerbates hostile situations, and I don’t know what we’re walking into tonight,” Taekwoon said, taking the mirror piece from Jaehwan’s hands and then tossing it down onto the small pile Jaehwan had started. “Better safe than sorry.”

“This is true.” Jaehwan eyed Taekwoon up and down. His eyes bore smudges too, though not nearly ones as impressive as Jaehwan’s. That wasn’t anything to write home about, but there was also just something about Taekwoon, that looked— windswept, almost. Like the world had grabbed him and twirled him round and round until he was dizzy and wobbly and then left him to stumble. Jaehwan didn’t know what to make of it. “Is that a bandage?”

Taekwoon looked down, at the small, crisp white edge of a bandage peeking out of his shirt collar. He didn’t bother to cover it, but the look on his face said he wanted to. “Yes,” he said, and Jaehwan could hear the period at the end of it, the mark of a finished line of thought.

“What happened?” Jaehwan asked.

Taekwoon scowled, ears pinkening, and Jaehwan wondered if he would snap. But all he said was, “I’m an idiot, is what happened.”

Jaehwan brought his hands up to his cheeks, dropping his mouth open in mock-surprise. “You? An idiot? Call the papers, this is brand new information.”

“Says the dumbass shattering mirrors because he had to get his hair just right,” Taekwoon shot back, turning away. Well, one for Jaehwan, but one for Taekwoon too. “Why did you do it anyway? Uncover the mirror. Are you trying to impress someone?”

“Just you,” Jaehwan said, and when Taekwoon glared at him over his shoulder, Jaehwan made a kissy face.

Taekwoon’s nose had wrinkled, but his blush had deepened, spreading over Taekwoon’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose. “You’re impossible, and don’t think I didn’t notice you and Hongbin, last night. You both looked guilty when I walked into the kitchen.”

“We were talking shit,” Jaehwan said. “About you. Speaking of you— you were acting weird last night too. Are you— is—”

“No,” Taekwoon said, scowling even deeper. He poked a toe at a small mirror shard. At his side, his hands clenched. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t matter?” 

Taekwoon and Jaehwan both looked to the open trap door, where Hongbin’s head was poking down from.

“What?” Hongbin repeated.

“Whatever has Taekwoon all shifty and guilty,” Jaehwan answered glibly, passing Taekwoon brusquely. He made his way up the stairs, Taekwoon following him. “It doesn’t matter, apparently.”

“Jaehwan,” Taekwoon said sharply from behind him.

Jaehwan sighed. He knew, or at least, could guess, what was playing on Taekwoon’s mind.

And it started with a _Hak_ and ended with a _yeon_.

“You know,” Jaehwan announced loudly. Hongbin watched the two of them emerge into the kitchen, his eyes as tired as theirs. “It probably _doesn’t_ matter, Taek.”

But Taekwoon’s shoulders were hunched up defensively, and he was shaking his head. “Stop,” he murmured, and Jaehwan sighed again. Through the kitchen window, the sky was freshly black, like asphalt just put down. They’d have company soon. 

Jaehwan looked away from the window, away from Taekwoon, and instead spoke to Hongbin. “I need to borrow your coat,” he said. Hongbin blinked. “The nice grey one.”

“It’s in the hall closet,” Hongbin said, and as Jaehwan left the kitchen, Hongbin called after him, “Don’t get like— sacrificial chicken blood on it or anything!”

The coat was, indeed, hanging in the closet, and it smelled a little stale for it, but Jaehwan wasn’t exactly picky. He took it down, folding it over his arm. Perhaps he should settle on the couch, watch some television as he waited, but he felt too jittery for that, and sensed if he tried to force himself to stay still he might accidentally set the curtains on fire. 

Instead he leaned beside the living room window, peering out onto their front yard. The sound of Taekwoon and Hongbin talking floated to him, but they spoke softly enough that he could not make out the individual words. At least they weren’t screaming. 

It did not take long. Vampires may have been limited to activity during nighttime hours but they were fast, and soon enough the house wards rippled in warning. It did nothing to soothe Jaehwan’s nerves.

He heard Taekwoon approaching before he saw him in his peripheral. Taekwoon stood in front of the window, squinting out. He’d put on his leather hunting jacket, which was possibly a statement, but what exactly he meant by it, Jaehwan didn’t know. Jaehwan’s only thought was that he was going to be cold if they got stuck outside for long. 

Jaehwan took the coat off his arm, shaking it out before putting it on. The shoulders were a bit too wide, but it fit well enough. “Do you know where exactly they’re taking us?” he asked in an undertone. 

The question seemed to take Taekwoon off guard. “No,” he murmured, and the both of them startled when the vampires flickered into sight. They were looking out onto an empty yard one moment and then suddenly Hakyeon, Wonshik, and Sanghyuk were all standing on the porch. The house wards positively hissed, and the beams above them creaked. 

“All three of them?” Hongbin asked, striding into the living room wearing an ominous scowl. His voice was loud, and too sudden; there was an especially loud corresponding groan from the house.

“Breathe, Jaehwan,” Taekwoon whispered, touching his shoulder lightly as he passed to get to the door, and Jaehwan flashed back to Sanghyuk whispering those exact words. He managed to bite back a gasp, though he couldn’t keep from shivering. 

But yes, yes. Breathe. 

Taekwoon opened the front door before the vampires could knock— though perhaps they hadn’t been planning on doing so at all. The blast of cold air that rushed in made Jaehwan huddle into his borrowed coat. Taekwoon didn’t seem to know what to say, his mouth twisted, brow furrowed. He didn’t seem to want to step out, which was odd, considering it had been him who’d bartered with Hakyeon for this. 

Jaehwan came to stand by his side, Hongbin at their backs. “Our handlers are here,” Jaehwan said, as haughtily as he could, considering he was about to shiver his hair right out of its tidy shape. 

Hakyeon was staring at Taekwoon, a stare that could strip paint. Or perhaps clothing. And that stare did not waver, not even as Jaehwan spoke. Sanghyuk, on the other hand, was looking at Jaehwan, and Jaehwan could _feel_ him looking. But Jaehwan, in turn, kept his gaze fixed on Hakyeon.

Wonshik, for his part, was squinting at the porch light, and Lord only knew where Hongbin was looking. At Taekwoon’s ass, probably. 

“Are you ready?” Hakyeon asked, taking a small step back, as if to entice them out. He was wearing a deep green coat tonight, and it brought out the rich undertones of his skin. Around his neck a black scarf was looped, unnecessary.

“We spoke about this,” Taekwoon said, finally finding his voice, but only in a small quantity. It was like he was trying to pitch the words so only Hakyeon would hear, which was a futile endeavor. But Taekwoon seemed to enjoy engaging in futile activities. “You cannot come.”

Hakyeon had no reaction this. He did not even blink. “I know,” he said, and gestured towards Sanghyuk. “I’m not coming, I was going to send Sanghyuk in my stead.”

Jaehwan’s stomach sank. He would rather it be Wonshik. Because Wonshik seemed bored, and that was so much easier than Hakyeon’s keen eyes and Sanghyuk’s whispered confessions. 

For a very brief flash, Jaehwan wondered if Wonshik wasn’t supposed to be playing the third role, and trying to seduce Hongbin, as Hakyeon and Sanghyuk were so clearly trying to do to Taekwoon and Jaehwan respectively. If he was, he certainly wasn’t trying too hard. Jaehwan dismissed the idea. Vampires were good at getting what they wanted, but even they could not get blood from a rock. Hongbin couldn’t be seduced. 

Jaehwan chanced a glance at Taekwoon, but Taekwoon was staring down at the ground with an intensity that said he was trying to burn holes into it. He was also, weirdly, blushing thoroughly.

“Taekwoon?” Hakyeon asked. “Is that alright?”

Jaehwan shouldered past Taekwoon, stepping over the doorway and into the seething night air. There was nothing quite like it, to go from being encased in the soft comfort of warding and then in a blink be in open waters with three vampires. “It’s fine,” Jaehwan said tersely, working to keep his voice steady. He didn’t look at any of the vampires as he squeezed past them; it seemed easier that way. There were footsteps following him, multiple pairs, and as Jaehwan descended the porch stairs he knew it was Taekwoon and Hongbin, because the vampires wouldn’t make any noise. But he couldn’t tamp down that sick feeling of fear surging up his throat. “Let’s get this done.”

The car beeped, unlocking, so at least Taekwoon was also ready to get out of here. Presumably, Taekwoon would drive, so Jaehwan would sit beside him in the passenger seat.

He got so, so close to the car, but then Hakyeon’s voice was ringing out into the quiet of the night. “Taekwoon,” he said, voice soft and sticky, like caramel left in the sun, “I would speak to you, for a moment.”

Jaehwan turned. While he was beside the car, Taekwoon was frozen mid-stride halfway across the yard, Hongbin and the three vampires watching from the porch. The expression on Taekwoon’s face spoke of pain. Pain experienced and pain to come. But he appeared to steel himself, and looked back at Hakyeon.

“What?” Taekwoon asked. 

Hakyeon sauntered down the porch steps, each movement careful, deliberate, almost sensual. “Alone,” he clarified. “I would speak to you alone.”

Taekwoon took a deep breath; Jaehwan saw his shoulders brace with the inhale. “No,” Taekwoon said simply, looking away and moving to continue walking.

Hakyeon must had said something, or motioned, but if he did either, Jaehwan didn’t catch it. All he knew was suddenly Sanghyuk was there, blocking his vision, looking like a horror film spectre.

Jaehwan _did_ gasp then, but Sanghyuk wasn’t smirking evilly, and his fangs seemed to be in check.  
In fact, his expression was shuttered, placid, but he was leaning into Jaehwan’s space, reaching—

Around. Reaching around. He grabbed the door handle— the _back_ door handle, tugging it open. “In,” he murmured, taking Jaehwan by the arm and guiding him gently, but firmly, into the backseat. Jaehwan was so taken off guard and dazed he obeyed without thinking about it much. 

It wasn’t until Sanghyuk closed the door, and then got into the passenger seat himself, that it sunk in what had just happened. 

Jaehwan peered out onto the yard, to see Taekwoon frozen again, Hakyeon walking towards him. Hongbin looked as if he wanted to step off the porch, but Wonshik was blocking him. Jaehwan’s heartbeat quickened. He could try to get out, yes, but Sanghyuk would probably stop him—

“It’s alright,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan started at the sound of his voice, curling back against the seat. The passenger door closed, and there was the sound of jingling. If Jaehwan thought being out in the open with a vampire was awful, being in a tiny enclosed space alone with one was so, so very much worse. “We’re not going to hurt any of you. Hakyeon just has some personal matters to speak to Taekwoon about.”

“Oh, yes, and I have every reason to believe the overgrown vampire,” Jaehwan said, voice high. Sanghyuk ignored him, leaning over the gearstick and putting the key into the ignition, turning the car on. He must have snagged the keys from Taekwoon as he’d flitted over. Jaehwan hadn’t even seen it. “What are you doing?”

Sanghyuk fiddled with some of the dials on the dashboard. “Getting the heat going, because you look cold,” he said, shifting in his seat so he could turn and look at Jaehwan around his headrest. His head brushed the top of the car. But it was more than his physical size that was overwhelming, it was his simple presence. It filled up the interior of the car, threatened to squeeze the very air from Jaehwan’s lungs. “Easy, hummingbird. Breathe. We spoke of this before.”

The pet name rattled. “Hummingbird?” he gasped. He didn’t mean to gasp, but he rather thought he could be forgiven. “First Taekwoon is kitten, and now I’m hummingbird? Are human names too hard for vampires, so you use belittling pet names? What is Wonshik going to call Hongbin?”

“Probably piranha,” Sanghyuk said immediately, and Jaehwan inhaled sharply but choked off the laugh before it could escape. “I won’t use it again, if it upsets you.” 

The way Sanghyuk was peering around the headrest, all big, pleading eyes, almost made him look coquettish. Jaehwan wasn’t falling for it. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Jaehwan said, wedging himself more firmly into the corner of the seat. Outside the car, there was movement, slow, but Jaehwan couldn’t hear whatever was being spoken by Hakyeon nor Taekwoon. “I know what this is.”

“Oh?” Sanghyuk asked, head tilting to the side as he hunched down some. “What is this?”

Jaehwan bit his bottom lip, and Sanghyuk’s eyes followed the motion. He couldn’t very well say _you’re trying to seduce me_ , because he knew Sanghyuk would laugh, deny it, make it seem like a ridiculous notion. It was one: Jaehwan knew he had charms but they weren’t exactly extensive. But this wasn’t seduction for the sake of sex. It was seduction for information, for power. Jaehwan would not fall for it. They could not have his heart, nor his body, any more than they could have the spell. Surrendering one would be to surrender the other two. And Jaehwan was not going to be owned. 

“You’re not going to get me this way,” Jaehwan said finally, and Sanghyuk could make of that what he would. “I won’t be owned by a vampire. By anyone.”

Sanghyuk blinked slowly, and his eyelids didn’t come back up fully. “I don’t want to collar you; that would be counterproductive,” he murmured. “Someone like you would be wasted on the end of a leash.”

Someone like him? Jaehwan didn’t know what Sanghyuk meant, fully, but he didn’t want to ask for an elaboration. He settled for squinting distrustfully, feeling his face warm with a blush. Damn his traitorous body.

Where the fuck was Taekwoon.

Jaehwan glanced at the window, but Sanghyuk began to speak again, and Jaehwan rather thought the vampire in the car with him deserved his full attention. Taekwoon could worry about the ones outside.

“Hakyeon said when you two spoke before, you burned him,” Sanghyuk said. There was no antagonism in his tone for it, he simply sounded young and curious.

“I did,” Jaehwan said, trying to sound proud of the fact and missing. He did not like the memory. “He was pissing me off.”

Sanghyuk grinned, teeth white in the dim. At least they were all blunt. “You didn’t burn me before.”

“I thought about it,” Jaehwan said honestly.

Sanghyuk’s grin widened. There was nothing predatory about it per se, but Jaehwan definitely felt like a bird under the scrutiny of a cat. “But you didn’t do it,” Sanghyuk pressed.

“Don’t,” Jaehwan said lowly, “test me.” His fingers flexed, involuntarily, and he inhaled shakily. He did not want to have to do it again, didn’t want Sanghyuk to call his bluff. It made him feel unsafe. Different creatures reacted to pain in different ways.

But Sanghyuk was moving, reaching back, and Jaehwan shrank away as best he could, gasping sharply. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Jaehwan said again, a warning, but it was shrill, laced with too much fear.

“Easy, easy,” Sanghyuk murmured. He didn’t touch Jaehwan, simply held his hand out, palm up, sleeve riding up to display his inner wrist and forearm. It was an offering. “You can. I’m curious.”

Jaehwan blinked down at Sanghyuk’s — frankly enormous — hand, then up at his face. “You _want_ me to burn you?” he choked out.

“Only if doing so won’t deplete you terribly,” Sanghyuk said. His eyes were bright, glittering in the dim, and he was no longer smiling. Jaehwan looked back down at his pale hand, the bluish tint of his veins in his wrist. He lifted his own hand, feeling magic skittering over his skin. Tentatively, he placed his fingertips on Sanghyuk’s palm, but he held his magic in check, not burning, not really wanting to hurt him. 

“You’re warm,” Jaehwan said softly, because it was true. Sanghyuk’s skin was almost feverish against his fingertips.

“You’re not.” At human speed, carefully, Sanghyuk closed his hand around Jaehwan’s, warming up his cold fingers, and Jaehwan’s heart about stopped for a moment. The gentleness of Sanghyuk’s hold belied none of his supernatural strength. He was simply sharing his warmth, and it seeped into Jaehwan’s skin, his aching joints.

For a moment out of time, Jaehwan allowed it, holding his breath without meaning to. His heart was fluttering with adrenaline. It was wrong, he knew it was wrong, Sanghyuk was human shaped but he didn’t _feel_ human, the current of his energy just a bit off, his skin slightly too smooth. 

Sanghyuk rubbed his thumb over Jaehwan’s knuckles, in a motion Jaehwan could only call tender. 

It all came back in an unpleasant snap. Jaehwan pulled his hand away, and Sanghyuk let him go without fuss, retreating back into his own space. 

Jaehwan shoved his hands under his own thighs, sitting on them, because it seemed safer. “It’s not going to work,” he said again, but this time it was ground out through clenched teeth. He stared out the window, taking in nothing. “Hakyeon should have known better than to think I’d be so easily seduced.”

He hadn’t meant to say it, that word; the way it fell into the small space of the car felt like a curse. And the pause that followed was charged. 

“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said slowly. “I am not acting on Hakyeon’s orders.” His stare was heavy, and it plucked at Jaehwan, whispered at him to believe the words. “Hakyeon is my maker. He’s one of my dearest friends, a mentor, a lover. There are very few things I wouldn’t do for him. But there are a great many things he wouldn’t ask of me, and this is one of them. He wouldn’t ask me to sleep with someone for his gain.”

Jaehwan blushed furiously— he knew he did. He could feel the blood come to his face, prickling at his skin. The thought of— no. “If not for his gain, then why _are_ you trying to sleep with me?” he asked, looking back at Sanghyuk’s glittering eyes.

Sanghyuk wasn't smiling, not exactly, but his eyes crinkled all the same. “Who said I am trying to sleep with you?”

Jaehwan kicked the back of his seat.

——

Hongbin stood with his toes tipping over the porch’s edge, a vampire against his side. Wonshik wasn’t blocking him, neither was he restraining him, but there was a fingertip, pressed to Hongbin’s spine, right between his shoulder blades. It wasn’t a threat, more simply a reminder, that Wonshik was there, that Hongbin, really, should stay put.

Hongbin remembered the feeling of Wonshik’s nose crunching under his knuckles, and rather thought he should not push his luck, tonight. So he let Wonshik’s hand stay as a gentle pressure on his spine, and he did not step off the porch.

Hakyeon and Taekwoon were on the lawn, maybe ten feet away, and Hakyeon was murmuring, crooning, and Taekwoon was shaking his head, trying to keep distance between them.

“Whatever you want to say, just say it, Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said, loud, too loud. Even though he was all bravado, he was clearly worried about whatever it was he thought Hakyeon was going to say.

In all honesty, so was Hongbin. 

“I wanted to discuss _personal matters_ with you,” Hakyeon hissed. “About something that was brought to my attention last night.”

Taekwoon glanced at Hongbin, over Hakyeon’s shoulder. He looked guilty, and cornered, and his eyes in turn darted to the car. Sanghyuk did not seem to be mauling Jaehwan, but after a few nights ago— Hongbin did not think they should be left alone together. 

Hakyeon stepped forward, putting his body almost up against Taekwoon’s. His fingers brushed over the lapels of Taekwoon’s jacket in the lightest of touches. Hongbin barely heard him when Hakyeon murmured, “It is not about what transpired between us.”

Hongbin’s eyebrows shot up, wondering what on earth _that_ meant. Taekwoon reared away from Hakyeon in a sharp step back, looking at Hongbin again, as if to check if he had heard. Hakyeon too, turned, looking over his shoulder at Hongbin. Where Taekwoon was pale and wide-eyed, Hakyeon was scowly, thoughtful.

Hongbin wanted to tell Hakyeon to not. Speaking to Taekwoon about his brother, telling him that the vampires had discovered that secret— Taekwoon would have a meltdown. But Hongbin didn’t know how to convey that to Hakyeon, without letting on to Taekwoon that he knew something Taekwoon didn’t. 

In the end he settled for staring Hakyeon down, their gazes locked. Vampires couldn’t read minds but Hongbin was positively throwing his intent at Hakyeon. Hakyeon could do what he wanted with his new information, weave it into his plan to manipulate Taekwoon, but don’t fucking _confront_ Taekwoon about it. Condolences were useless and expansion upon the story was not an option.

 _Just let it go_ , Hongbin thought. Wonshik’s hand was splayed on his back now, cold through his sweater. And Taekwoon was beginning to flicker his gaze between Hongbin and Hakyeon, his own brow wrinkling in a frown. It was a frown of suspicion, and Hongbin lowered his gaze, staring down at the wilting grass. The last thing Hongbin wanted was an interrogation after Taekwoon and Jaehwan got home.

He heard Hakyeon sigh. “It isn’t overly important I suppose,” Hakyeon said, and Hongbin could almost feel Taekwoon’s relief. His own rushed thickly over him, and he let out a long breath, taking care to keep it quiet enough that Taekwoon wouldn’t take note. Hakyeon wasn’t a fool, it seemed. Not utterly.

“If it isn’t important, then I would like to leave,” Taekwoon murmured, scuffing his toes against a clot of grass. Hongbin wondered if Taekwoon was thinking the same thing he was— that Jaehwan and Sanghyuk had been in that car alone for far too long.

Jaehwan was too strong for a vampire to put a lasting glamour on. At least, Hongbin thought so. But he did not want to test that theory.

Hongbin stepped off the porch, just one step, and Wonshik hissed, a noise that raised goosebumps all over Hongbin’s body. Wonshik notched his finger in the back of Hongbin’s collar, causing light pressure from the fabric on his windpipe. Hongbin had to hold back a growl. Taekwoon’s eyes flickered over the pair of them for a moment before settling back on Hakyeon. 

“At some point in the near future— we will need to talk,” Hakyeon said, almost a gentle reproof. He had to tip his face up, to look Taekwoon in the eyes. “But yes, kitten, you should go before the night gets too old.”

The relief rounded Taekwoon’s shoulders, took away the pinched look at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t want to talk,” he said, reaching out, plucking at Hakyeon’s scarf.

“I know— but we— kitten, that is _mine_ —” Hakyeon broke off as Taekwoon lifted the scarf from around his neck and looped it around his own.

Taekwoon tucked his face down into the scarf. “I’m cold,” he mumbled. He squinted one eye closed as the wind picked up, threatening to freeze Hongbin’s eyeballs in his skull. “No talking.”

Hakyeon made an exasperated little noise, but he didn’t move to stop Taekwoon as Taekwoon walked away, finally going to the car. He didn’t know Taekwoon well enough, not yet, to know Taekwoon was playing.

But Hongbin did.

Taekwoon seemed to remember this, remember his presence, as he reached the driver’s side door. he looked up, meeting Hongbin’s eyes one last time, before ducking his head and climbing into the car.

“Yeah, no, don’t worry about me! I’ll just be here! In the clutches of a savage!” Hongbin shouted, before the car door slammed and he closed his mouth. He couldn’t help the curl of his own upper lip. 

The car’s headlights turned on, and then Taekwoon was backing them out, so presumably, he had not found Jaehwan’s drained corpse in the backseat when he’d gotten in. Hongbin saluted at the red taillights.

As soon as the car was around the corner, Hongbin whirled, smacking Wonshik’s hand away from himself and stepping back up onto the porch, with every intention of going back inside because he was fucking frozen. His nipples could probably cut diamonds. 

But he could not go inside, because Wonshik was blocking the door, quite suddenly, and Hongbin snarled at him. He turned, to see Hakyeon coming back towards them. He almost seemed to be floating, a little dazed. Were he not a vampire, he might have been blushing. Well. If he was growing fond of Taekwoon, and not simply wanting to sleep with him, that could have some advantages.

“If you don’t want Taekwoon to go back to hating you, you’d be wise to not mention his brother,” Hongbin said, not sure why he was doling out such precious advice. Hakyeon hummed in answer, but the sound harmonized with the night, somehow, blending in sweetly but hauntingly. “And I should also add, that being kind to me and Jaehwan would be a smart choice as well.” 

Abruptly, the dazed look was gone, and Hakyeon was back to being a vampire, and nothing more. He jerked his head, and Wonshik shuffled, moving out of Hongbin’s way. 

Hongbin’s heart was racing. He’d only just noticed.

“Tonight,” Hakyeon said quietly, “I am not staying. Wonshik will guard you, so do not do anything foolish while the others and I are away.” 

“Oh, great, leaving me here alone with the one who tried to eat me, then manhandled me,” Hongbin said, as if Wonshik wasn’t standing right there. In Hongbin’s defense, Wonshik was being as silent and still as a gargoyle. 

Hakyeon’s eyes narrowed, and oh, Hongbin should _not_ be testing his luck when he wasn’t in the safety of the wards, when both Taekwoon and Jaehwan weren’t around. Thankfully, Hakyeon turned his gaze to Wonshik as he said, “Wonshik, do not touch Hongbin again unless utterly necessary.”

Wonshik did not reply verbally, his expression unmoving, but he blinked, so Hongbin supposed that was an agreement. Good. Hongbin turned his face up, so he could look down his nose at Wonshik.

“And Hongbin,” Hakyeon said, making Hongbin whip around to stare at him. Somehow, Hakyeon had gotten very close. “Do not antagonize Wonshik.”

That was like telling Hongbin not to breathe. He was a walking cactus. “You’re not _my_ maker,” Hongbin said, with a bravado he did not feel. Hakyeon, somehow, looked like a snake, eyes heavy lidded, body poised. “You can’t order me around—”

Hakyeon was there then, face inches away, his finger pressed to Hongbin’s lips to silence him. “I just did,” Hakyeon whispered, his breath fanning over Hongbin’s face. “You would be wise to obey.” 

When Hakyeon pulled back, dropping his hand, Hongbin's mouth remained clamped shut. Without another word, Hakyeon left them, dissolving into the darkness like sugar in warm water. It was a nifty trick, and Hongbin thought being dead was almost a fair price for it. Almost.

One would think dealing with one vampire would be an improvement, over dealing with two. But as Hongbin looked up at Wonshik’s face the glint in his eyes did not bode well. 

“I’m going inside,” Hongbin said, not sure why he was bothering to even talk, other than the silence was making him nervous. Wonshik simply raised an eyebrow, watching as Hongbin grabbed for the doorknob. “You can hang out on the roof like a weirdo if you want—” Wonshik’s hand came down on the door, holding it closed. Hongbin fought not to swallow audibly. “I will tell Hakyeon,” Hongbin warned, glaring.

“Tell him what?” Wonshik asked, and his voice was so _deep_ , so low, that it felt like it should make Hongbin’s bones tremble. 

Hongbin tried to pull the door open, feeling the strain in his muscles, but it moved no one iota. Wonshik didn’t even seem to feel the attempt, his posture relaxed. “That you’re a dick,” Hongbin hissed. He shook the doorknob, and when that yielded no result, he gave up, striding off the porch. “Fine. Stay here. Be an asshat.”

Wonshik’s eyes followed Hongbin until he turned around the corner of the house, where Hongbin lost sight of him. He went through the side gate, into the backyard. The back door should be unlocked—

Of course, of fucking _course_ , by the time Hongbin was wading through the overgrown grass, Wonshik was already there, leaning against the back door just as he had the front. He looked like he’d teleported.

Hongbin’s hands clenched into fists. He was wearing a sweater but not a coat, and he was fucking cold and tired. “If I get hypothermia and die Hakyeon will probably, I don’t know, rip your toenails out.”

“Probably,” Wonshik agreed. Hongbin made his way up the back porch’s steps, scowling. “You do look cold.”

Hongbin was panting slightly from his stomp around the house, and his breath was puffing out like a dragon’s. His teeth were starting to knock together with his shivers. “Nothing gets past you,” Hongbin said, eyeing the door. _Including me, apparently_.

“It is a very unpleasant sensation, is it? It’s been so long since I felt it so, I honestly cannot recall,” Wonshik said. He shifted, keeping one hand braced on the back door while the other went behind his own back.

“The perks of being dead, I suppose,” Hongbin snapped, but it was half hearted, because he was distracted by whatever Wonshik was doing. “What—”

Wonshik had been getting something from his own back pocket, and when he brought it around his front, he did so with no real flourish, simply held it out to Hongbin. It took a moment, for the recognition to kick in, and then Hongbin realized it was his phone in Wonshik’s hand, but with a smooth, unbroken screen. 

Hongbin blinked down at the phone, then up at Wonshik’s face, then back down at the phone. He waited for the joke, but Wonshik’s face gave nothing away, and he simply pushed the phone nearer to Hongbin’s body, so Hongbin took it from his hand. The plastic was cold, and on the back was the familiar scratch it had incurred when Hongbin had dropped it down the back of the couch, but the front was replaced, new and shiny. 

“You fixed it?” Hongbin asked, unable to hide his genuine surprise.

Wonshik’s brow was wrinkled in the slightest of bemused frowns, and his head tipped to the right, a little, as he regarded Hongbin. “You threw it at me and told me I should do so, if you recall,” he said, sardonic. 

“I say a lot of things,” Hongbin snapped. He didn’t like how wrong footed this made him feel. If it had been Taekwoon, he would have taken Hongbin’s phone, kept it a day, and then shoved it in Hongbin’s underwear drawer still cracked. Because that was how things were supposed to go. “No one ever listens, that’s the point. I say shit and people tell me to shut up and I tell them to fuck off— it is a cycle, the circle of life.” 

Somewhere during Hongbin’s little spiel Wonshik’s frown had smoothed out and his expression had resumed its infuriating placidness. “You could thank me,” Wonshik said. 

“I could, but I won’t,” Hongbin said, shoving the phone in his front pocket. Wonshik watched the movement with alertness. “Saying such a thing would require some kind of mirroring emotion of gratitude within myself— and I’ve gone spelunking in the depths of my heart and I just can’t seem to find any gratitude for vampires.”

Wonshik blinked slowly. “You could say it anyway.”

“Are you telling me to be a liar?” Hongbin asked sweetly, smiling in a way that was halfway to a snarl. His lips felt dry, and like they would crack from the cold. 

It might have been his imagination, but Hongbin thought he saw the corners of Wonshik’s lips twitch. “I would, in turn, accept an apology instead,” Wonshik said, like he was making an offer, bartering. But why and what for, Hongbin wasn’t sure.

The smile slid off Hongbin’s face in the wake of the genuine indignation that surged up. “Apologize?” he asked. “For what?”

“Breaking my nose.”

Hongbin felt himself puffing up. “I’m not apologizing for that, you deserved it after manhandling me,” he said, remembering how scared he’d been. It was odd— he’d had vampires rough him up a bit before, but Hongbin knew their desire, and that was blood. But he didn’t know what Wonshik wanted, his motivations, and that made him more dangerous. “And I’m sure I owed you a good sock in the face anyway simply for the fact that you almost killed me before. Are you going to apologize to _me_ for sinking your fangs into my—”

“Yes,” Wonshik said, voice level but it cut through Hongbin’s words all the same. The way Wonshik tossed his head a bit spoke of a challenge. “Yes, I’m sorry for that. I’ve not lost control in a long time, and though the cause was the spell you’ve put in your own blood, that does not excuse that it was wrong to take you that way.”

Hongbin’s lips parted in silent surprise. He stared at Wonshik, and Wonshik stared back. Hongbin realized the vampire was waiting for a response. 

“You—” Hongbin began, but his voice came out croaky, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “We literally just went through this. I say rude thing, you tell me to shut up, and then I tell you to fuck off. You’re not supposed to listen to me.”

“I’m not interested in playing your games,” Wonshik said simply, raising his eyebrow again. Hongbin was starting to want to smack it off his face, patience worn thin by the cold and the wicked tendrils of fear still skittering up his spine. 

“Well,” Hongbin murmured, hands coming up to hold his upper arms as his shivering worsened, “I’m not interested in yours, either.”

This time, the corners of Wonshik’s mouth definitely turned upwards, in the slightest ghost of a smile. Carefully, Wonshik placed two icy fingertips beneath Hongbin’s chin, tipping his head back and to the side, baring the long line of his neck. Hongbin let him, mostly because he was too frightened to not. Wonshik’s eyes traced over the lingering scabs of the bite wounds he had left, and the even older fading pink spots from Hakyeon’s fangs. Then he let his hand drop. Hongbin tucked his chin down, not realising he had been holding his breath.

“Shall we agree to not play games, then?” Wonshik asked in a whisper. 

Hongbin stared at the collar of Wonshik’s shirt. “Please let me go inside,” he said, barely audible.

For a moment, Hongbin thought Wonshik would not listen— but then the vampire moved, stepping aside and opening the door for Hongbin. The warm air from inside rushed out to greet Hongbin, caressing like a lover.

Hongbin paused. “Thank you for fixing my phone,” he murmured, staring down at the linoleum floor of the kitchen. “But I’m not sorry I hit you.” He stepped inside, and Wonshik shut the door softly behind him. 

——

Somehow, the atmosphere in the car was worse, with Taekwoon in it. Perhaps it was simply because of the silence. 

Sanghyuk, as unobtrusively as possible, directed Taekwoon to drive across town, underneath the freeway overpass and into the rougher side of things. No matter how carefully Sanghyuk moved, though, Jaehwan could see Taekwoon making a conscious effort to not flinch in response. Idly, Jaehwan wondered why Taekwoon had requested Hakyeon not accompany them. He did not know Sanghyuk well, which caused him to be on edge, but had a rapport with Hakyeon.

Perhaps that was exactly why he’d made the request, though.

In the end the house they stopped in front of was— not what Jaehwan had been expecting. It was compact, its dimensions oddly miniature, squeezed between two houses that looked like mirror images. The front yard was the size of a large rug and had a low chain link fence around it, more cement than grass. On the windows were cream painted bars, to prevent break-in, and the house itself was a muddy sort of beige that looked muddier for the fact that it needed a new coat five years prior.

Jaehwan and the others lived in a quieter side of town, the people humble but scraping by well enough. The person who lived in these houses were scraping by too, but not well.

“This is it?” Taekwoon asked, for a moment too incredulous to remember to be nervous. 

“Yes,” Sanghyuk said, unbuckling his seatbelt. Jaehwan had wanted to ask why he’d bothered wearing it, but he had refrained. “We’re expected, so the gate will accept us.” Of course there would be warding for protection, and Jaehwan could feel it, he supposed, but it was very quiet. The house itself did not emanate any energy, nothing to betray that a magic-user dwelled within.

They followed Sanghyuk out, letting him lead them to the gate. There was no padlock, and Sanghyuk lifted the latch and the gate door swung open easily. As they passed through it, Jaehwan felt like they’d stepped into a bubble. It was some kind of barrier spell on the whole place, usually used for concealment. He looked to the house, but couldn’t see anything different about it. 

Sanghyuk closed the gate behind them. “It’s a spell to keep people from spying on who comes and goes,” he said, as if he’d read Jaehwan’s mind. 

Jaehwan squinted at him, and Sanghyuk just grinned back. It made his tummy and cheeks feel warm, so he promptly looked away, searching for Taekwoon. He found him standing on the miniscule lawn, squinting with equal distrust at the house.

Sanghyuk didn’t wait for either of them, he went up to the door and knocked sharply. The noise caused one of the neighbor’s dogs to begin barking, a jarring sound that echoed around the neighborhood.

Jaehwan didn't want to get near Sanghyuk, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself coming to stand beside him so when the door swung open, he got a good look at the person he would be visiting. 

Jaehwan blinked.

The person was a girl, but she was all bony shoulders and flat chest, a backwards ballcap tipped sarcastically on her head. 

“It’s the baby vampire,” she said in a low voice by way of greeting. The tone suited her well. Her eyes went to Jaehwan. “And the sorcerer. Wow. He’s something, isn’t he?” Jaehwan did not know what exactly that meant, other than that she might be able to read his energy some. He could read hers, too, and she did not seem magical at all. She jerked her head at Taekwoon, skulking behind them. “Who is that?”

“A hunter. And we’re expected,” Sanghyuk said, shuffling as if he wanted to step forward. 

“Well, duh,” the girl said, backing up to allow him entrance, and Sanghyuk motioned for Jaehwan and Taekwoon to follow as he entered the house.

The room they walked into looked nothing like Jaehwan would have expected it to, going off the outside of the house, but it did look exactly how he thought a Seer’s house would appear if it was a ride at Disneyland. The four of them stood crammed in a small living room, the ceiling low and lighting dim. Bundles of— things, hung from hooks on the ceiling. Jaehwan recognized bushels of dried lavender and thistle, and more tasteless things, like chicken feet and a rope of what seemed to be intestines looped in a corner. The walls were covered in rugs, pinned to the plaster to cover it. It made the room look darker, the rich colors of the rugs lost in the dim and making the room feel even more claustrophobic. There were two low sofas of indiscernible color grouped around an equally low table, which rested a variety of items commonly used in future-seeing. The smell of frankincense was almost overwhelming.

The girl who’d let them in impatiently twitched her sweater sleeves up so they were off her hands, revealing a small piece of a tattoo on her right forearm. “Krys!” she called. “Your appointment is here.”

There was a doorway with strips of fabric hanging over it, so Jaehwan couldn’t see what was beyond it. But he heard light footsteps, and then the fabric parted and a girl peeked through. She had the frizzy hair of someone too overzealous with their bleachings, and was as skinny as a light pole, though her height was not nearly so impressive.

There was nothing impressive about her bearing, and she did not seem to have an undue amount of energy that Jaehwan could sense. She squinted at Jaehwan and said, in a tart voice, “Well, you’re a mess.”

Jaehwan looked down at himself, thinking he was not a mess at all and somewhat offended. Taekwoon pressed against his side, nervous in a way that seemed odd. As he moved, his head knocked against a bundle of drying poppies, and the petals cracked off in his hair.

The blond girl — the Witch, Jaehwan supposed — motioned to the low table. “Amber, give me my cards please,” she said, her tone still unapologetically brusque. Maybe that was simply how she spoke. “I can’t do him here, there’s too much—” She waved vaguely at Sanghyuk and Taekwoon. 

Amber went to the low table and scooped up the pile of tarot cards, but left the other items alone. Jaehwan thought the wooden bowl there was full of bones.

“I thought people weren’t supposed to touch tarot cards that belonged to someone else,” Jaehwan said. In truth, he knew very little about the art of fortune telling. It all seemed so very— summer carnival-esque. 

The Witch took the cards from Amber, glaring at Jaehwan through waywards strands of her hair as she did so. “If you know so much why did you come see me?” she asked, retreating back into the room from whence she came. Her voice floated back to him. “Come on.”

Jaehwan rather thought that with her manners she probably didn’t get much business. But if the vampires were recommending her, she must be skilled. Which probably meant she didn’t _need_ to put on the act. She wasn’t here for tourists, for teenage girls wanting love advice. 

Jaehwan followed her through the doorway, the curtains brushing lightly over him as he went. Behind him, he heard Sanghyuk murmur at Taekwoon not to follow.

The room he had entered into was a kitchen, but it was basically a glorified hallway. Along the right wall was a counter, cabinets, sink, and stove. The left wall was bare. On the other end the room opened up and Jaehwan saw the Witch taking a seat at a medium sized table. She pointed at the chair opposite hers, snapping her fingers.

Jaehwan was too intrigued to be annoyed by her rudeness. The kitchen was a sharp contrast to the theatrical mysticality of the living room, all cheap linoleum. Perhaps she did a bit of tourist activity after all. He went where she’d motioned, sitting in a spindly-legged chair that was just a tad too short for his tall frame. The table was bare, honey-colored wood. No velvet tablecloth, no chalk pentagrams.

She was staring at him. It was slightly unnerving. 

“So,” she said, plunking the tarot deck in the middle of the table, “tell me why your energy is such a mess.”

“Shouldn’t you just know?” Jaehwan asked smartly, grinning when her upper lip twisted. He wasn’t going to make this that easy.

The art of future telling was so unwieldy. And Seers were different from sorcerers. True Seers had visions of the past, present, and future, unaided. But in truth, any ordinary human could pose as a fortune teller. Seers had no more energy than a normal human, not like sorcerers, who were able to wield magic by virtue of their high energy level. So that meant that, aside from the visions, Seers had no major leg up. External props could help hone outside energy, things like mirrors, ouija boards— tarot cards. But a true Seer shouldn’t need them.

The Witch leaned forward, spreading the tarot cards out neatly in a line, face down. “The thing people don’t understand about Seeing,” she said, picking out cards from the line-up and setting them in another pile, “is that the visions cannot be controlled. I do not choose when they come, or what I See.” When she was satisfied with the little pile she’d gathered, she set it aside and collected the rest of the cards, putting them in her lap and out of sight. “This is quite frustrating, but it is what it is. I’ve learned to fetter out information in other ways, and am skilled enough at gleaning truth from what is given to me.”

“Meaning?” Jaehwan asked, and she pushed the shortened deck at him. Jaehwan picked it up. The cards felt curiously soft around the edges, and in the fluorescent glow coming in from the kitchen, he could see the backs of them were deep red, swirled with black.

“Shuffle them and as you do, think of a question, then put them back on the table, face down,” she instructed, her voice making it clear she was used to being obeyed. 

Jaehwan raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? The vampires made it sound like you were highly skilled— I didn’t think I was coming out here for nothing more than a simple tarot reading.”

“If you don’t want it, you can leave,” she said, tilting her head to the door. “Otherwise, shut up and listen to me.”

Jaehwan hummed. He wasn’t fooled— she would be able to fetter out information from a reading, yes, but also having him sit here, touching her cards, would tell her many things too. It was not to his benefit most likely. The vampires had her bought and paid for, whatever she learned here would be conveyed back to them.

But Jaehwan was more curious than not.

He began to shuffle the cards, noting that as he did, she seemed to have trouble looking at him for long. Her eyes would skitter away after a second or two.

 _A question_ , he thought. If he fucked up the phrasing, would it matter, or was this kind of magic like his own, and about the intent above all else. He supposed he would find out.

_The spell inside me, what will happen in regards to it? What is it going to do to me? Can I fix it? Do I fix it?_

Too many questions, too many, but the core of it was just the spell, the spell, the spell.

Once he’d shuffled the cards — there weren’t very many of them, maybe twenty, and it was hard to shuffle such a small deck — he placed them back in the middle of the table, face down, like she’d asked. He looked to her for instruction, and found her scowling at the cards, mouth twisted.

“It isn’t pretty,” she said, and he looked at the deck. They were tidy, edges lined up.

“What isn’t?” he asked, slightly affronted. He wasn’t a dealer at a casino, no, but he’d done the best he could. She waved her hand at him, like she was swatting at a fly, before leaning forward and taking six cards off the top of the deck, laying them out side by side, facedown. She picked up the first card, flipping it over and pushing it nearer to him.

It was upside down. Jaehwan tilted his head to look at it properly. It showed two dogs, or perhaps wolves, bracketed by dual towers, howling at a full moon. At the bottom of the card, it aptly read _The Moon_.

“Dreams turn to nightmares,” the Witch murmured, seemingly at the card, and then squinted at Jaehwan as she said, louder, “You’re pessimistic of late, hm? Shit’s not going too well.”

“Shit hasn’t gone well in a long time,” Jaehwan replied, matching her tartness and feeling rather proud for it. She snorted daintily and then flipped over the next card, putting it beside the first. This one was upright, and at the bottom it read _The World_. At the center, a woman floated in a circular frame, holding what appeared to be two candles, lit at both ends. 

“And yet it does not keep you from seeking peace— seeking everything, really. High goals to aim for,” she said, tapping a long nail on her bottom lip. 

Jaehwan wished he knew more about tarot cards. He wasn’t even sure he believed in any of this, and yet— he knew if the right energy was directed into such efforts, they could be illuminating. 

This time, he didn’t wait for her; he flipped the third card over himself, and she let him, so he supposed this meant he was allowed. This one was upright as well, and somewhat strikingly showed three people rising out of coffins, their arms outstretched to the sky where an angel blew a trumpet. The bottom of the card read _Judgement_.

“You’re dying,” the Witch murmured, and Jaehwan’s face snapped to look at her, iciness shooting through him. “Or, if you’re not, you’re afraid you will.” She eyed him, squinting again.

“Why do you keep giving me the stink-eye?” he asked, trying to cover up how shaken he was. It wasn’t new information, but he didn’t like that she just— but it was possible, likely, even, that the vampires had told her he was in bad health.

She motioned at his body and said, simply, “Bright.” 

Jaehwan glanced down at his grey coat, black sweater, baffled, and as he did so the Witch flipped over the fourth and fifth cards. The fourth was upright, and showed a woman petting a lion over script that read _Strength_. Beside it, the fifth card sat upside down, a man in a flowing red robe and holding a wand drawn on its face. _The Magician_. Fitting.

Though Jaehwan waited, the Witch said nothing, her lips pursed as she gazed down at the cards. She tapped her nail sharply, gratingly, on the table for a moment before flipping over the sixth card.

Jaehwan knew this one. A castle tower, struck by lightning and aflame. At its sides, a man and woman were shown falling from the tower’s windows, flung there by the force of the lightning blast, or jumping to their deaths to escape the fire, it wasn’t clear. The bottom of the card redundantly said _The Tower_.

“What do they mean?” Jaehwan asked softly.

Eventually, the Witch poked the _Strength_ card. “What is in your favor.” She touched the card beside it, the upside down _Magician_. “What is not. You have ingenuity and ability in droves but it will do nothing, in the face of all that is against you. You are fraying, your seams unravelling. Something must change.”

Jaehwan touched the last card, the dreaded _Tower_. It seemed to fizz against his fingertips. “And this?”

“That is the answer to your question, whatever it was,” she said, her voice flat. “Will you tell me what it was?”

No. But he could get across the gist. “I wanted to know if I was going to get better,” he murmured. The two of them both stared at the last card, its meaning hanging heavy in the air. “You don’t have to say it. I know what it means.”

The Witch gathered the cards back up, reuniting them with the rest of the deck deftly. “If you give me a bit of blood, I can, perhaps, tell you how long you have?” she offered, her dark eyebrows raised.

Jaehwan laughed, the sound as hollow as his chest felt. “My blood,” he said, “has gotten me in enough trouble.”

——

Sometimes, Taekwoon thought his life couldn’t get any more surreal, but then, it kept proving him wrong. Still, standing in a tiny room packed with dead animal parts and a silent vampire, the both of them virtually twiddling their thumbs as they waited, had to be at the top in terms of surrealism.

The silence only added to it. The tomboyish girl, Amber, had left them without any ceremony, disappearing down a darkened hall with a simple warning of, “Don’t break anything.” And without her, the only sound was Taekwoon’s breathing. Nothing could be heard from beyond the curtain through which Jaehwan and the Witch had disappeared. It was an artificial quiet, spell induced.

Sanghyuk, heedless of the warning they’d been given, was poking at the various statuettes and totems on the mantlepiece. Taekwoon, instead, opted to sit on the low sofa. It was so close to the ground that sitting in it made him feel a bit ridiculous, his knees practically around his ears. 

He had a lot of questions. About the Witch, and about Sanghyuk. But he did not think building upon the— the relationship he already had with the vampires was a course he should take. If anything, he should be distancing himself. So talking to Sanghyuk was out of the question.

Taekwoon touched the end of the scarf hanging from around his neck. He shouldn’t have taken it, but he’d wanted to see Hakyeon’s reaction. It smelled like him though, like vampire, and if Taekwoon paid too much attention to it, he could feel his skin growing warm. He didn’t want to talk to, or be near Hakyeon, and yet— he also very much did want these things. 

Guiltily, he glanced at Sanghyuk, as if the vampire could read his mind, or more likely, smell his arousal, hear the uptick in his heartbeat. But if Sanghyuk did take note of any of these things, he wasn’t reacting. Instead, he was cradling a Madonna figurine with a face that had been painted on comically badly. Hopefully it wasn’t cursed.

Taekwoon looked at the table in front of him. There was a cloth with a pentagram set in the center, where the tarot cards had rested. Beside it was a small wooden bowl with charred bones in it— the smallness of the bones meant they were from a bird, or perhaps a rodent. Taekwoon wasn’t unused to the sight of such things, as he did live with Jaehwan after all, though he wasn’t exactly sure what these were used for. He touched a fingertip to the edge of the bowl, and it wobbled.

“She has clients blow on the bones,” Sanghyuk spoke up from across the room, and Taekwoon started. “Then she casts them onto the cloth, and can do readings from their placements.”

Taekwoon blinked at him, frozen, unsure whether to engage or not. “Oh,” he said, a little faint, and then looked resolutely back down at the table. With a suddenness, he remembered Hongbin and Jaehwan, and how after this vampire spoke to them, they’d been shaken enough to say the vampires were getting _agressive_. Sanghyuk, thus far, did not seem so— his most intimidating factor was his sheer size and the whole vampire thing. But maybe his target had been Jaehwan. Maybe Taekwoon wasn’t going to be on the receiving end of it, because of Hakyeon. That was a thought: that Hakyeon had laid claim on him, so his children weren’t going to go for him, even to interrogate. 

He hissed out a shaky breath, pushing all his thoughts into a box at the corner of his mind. The last item on the table was a flat disk of some kind, golden bronze, engraved with a skyscape, runes dancing all around the edges. 

Well, Amber had said not to break anything, but hadn’t forbidden them from touching. So Taekwoon, carefully, like he was handling a baby bird, picked up the disk, finding that there was a mirror on the other side of it. 

“For scrying,” Sanghyuk said, unnecessarily. Taekwoon heard him put down the Madonna figurine, but didn’t look away from the mirror in his hands. The metal of the rim felt bussy against his fingertips, not unlike Jaehwan.

Taekwoon knew what scrying was. He suspected it was why Jaehwan had such an issue with mirrors. They could be powerful things. But other items could be used, like pools of still water, or flames. Scrying was a finicky art, the least reliable, he’d heard. Easiest to do, but the images seen weren’t always true. It depended on the scryer. It depended on what the universe wanted to show them.

He kind of wanted to try. 

Sanghyuk, in his peripheral, moved nearer as Taekwoon settled forward, leaning down, over the mirror. He held it carefully, the intricate golden frame digging into his fingertips. In the darkness of the shop, his reflected face looked simplified, dark holes where his eyes should be, mouth a smudge. As he stared, even the lighter patches of his cheeks and nose dimmed, fading off so the entire surface of the mirror was a flat black. Taekwoon didn’t really register it bleeding out, until the gilded gold of the mirror’s frame was disappearing too, his fingers, hands, wrists, fading out of vision. Everything was darkness, but there was motion to it, something stirring in the depths, and Taekwoon found himself fixated on it, unable to blink. Not really wanting to.

The indistinct shapes solidified, like smoke settling into form. A white shirt, pale skin, eyelashes pressed to cheeks. It was himself, a golden earring glinting in his ear from behind hair grown slightly overlong. An earring he didn’t yet own. 

The other version of himself in the vision shifted slightly, the motion too silky to mimic reality, and Hakyeon was there, then, solidifying from the ether beneath Taekwoon’s other self, their mouths sliding slickly against one another. Taekwoon’s stomach swooped, warmth washing over him in a wave as he watched the vision of himself kissing Hakyeon ardently, pressing the vampire down into a surface that hadn’t quite manifested itself in the vision. 

Hakyeon brought his hands up to tangle in the other Taekwoon’s hair, tugging with a familiarity that left Taekwoon breathless as he watched. This couldn’t be, he thought, even though his body was reacting, heart fluttering and jeans growing uncomfortable. Hakyeon arched, the motion lovely, and Taekwoon watched as his vision self let himself be rolled onto his back, Hakyeon straddling him. His cheeks felt so warm they were likely to catch fire.

Hakyeon pulled back, breaking the kiss. “Kitten,” Hakyeon crooned, and Taekwoon’s vision self made a small, helpless noise, and from beyond his kiss swollen lips, the tips of two razor sharp fangs peeked out. 

It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on Taekwoon. The shop slammed back in a rush as Taekwoon dropped the mirror. It fell back onto the table, clattering as it settled but unharmed.

Movement, out of the corner of his eye, and Taekwoon jolted, looking up and up at Sanghyuk. Panic clawed at him, as he wondered if Sanghyuk had seen—

Sanghyuk bent, picking the mirror up and, after giving it a cursory glance to check for damage, set it face down on the table once more. He looked at Taekwoon, his face neutral but voice tinged with curiosity. “Nothing good?”

Taekwoon could feel his heart pounding in his chest, like someone was thumping on his ribcage, and his breath was coming in pants. The guilt lay so thickly on him he wouldn’t be surprised if Sanghyuk couldn’t see it. No, no it was nothing good. A future where Taekwoon had turned. It couldn’t be possible. And yet— the beginning of the vision had been so appealing to that sick, wrong little twisted part of himself. If he gave in and took one step, what was to stop him from taking another, and another.

Suddenly, the slice on his chest, tucked away under bandages and clothing, itched. A horrible reminder. One step.

Sanghyuk was still staring at him, waiting for an answer. His neutral expression had turned into something harder, something that Taekwoon had seen on the faces of people expecting an impact. “Taekwoon?” he asked, a bit louder.

“It’s none of your business,” Taekwoon managed to choke out, and Sanghyuk visibly relaxed, jaw unclenching. Of course, scrying could be dangerous, it pulled the soul places it wasn’t meant to go, and souls could get lost. Sanghyuk’s concern was only alarming just in that Taekwoon knew he didn’t care about Taekwoon one bit— but Sanghyuk would know his maker would be displeased if Taekwoon was a vegetable. 

How had it gone this far, Taekwoon wondered. He had known it had, but seeing it laid out so clearly, the path thus far, and its destination— it was too much. 

His face still felt sickly pale, cold in waves. Sanghyuk loomed above him, and Taekwoon couldn’t look at him, eyes on his own knees. Thankfully, his erection had completely flagged at the sight of fangs in his own fucking mouth, so he didn’t have to worry about concealing it— but the residual scent of arousal probably still lingered. 

Taekwoon stood up, pacing away from Sanghyuk, to the mantle, staring at the deformed Madonna figurine. He missed the sound of footsteps, so he didn’t have any warning aside from the curtains in the doorway twitching before the Witch breezed back into the room. She took in Taekwoon, sweat-damp and guilty, and Sanghyuk, all placid austerity, and said, “Did I interrupt a tryst?”

Taekwoon hated her. He hated this place. He hated his life. The curtains fluttered again and Jaehwan stepped through them, looking pale as well, though Taekwoon couldn’t tell if it was from whatever he and the Witch had spoken of, or if he was just wilting from the general activity. 

“You ready?” Taekwoon asked. Jaehwan startled, a little, seemingly having been lost in his own thoughts, but he nodded. Taekwoon thought it was rather enthusiastic.

Taekwoon didn’t wait for permission, simply swept out of the house, relieved when first the door, then the front gate, let him pass through without hindrance. Jaehwan followed close behind him, fingers twisted in the back of Taekwoon’s jacket. It was a relief, to climb into the driver’s door, Jaehwan in the passenger seat. It might have been the cold, but Jaehwan was trembling a little. Taekwoon was too, but definitely not from the cold.

Of course, Sanghyuk came striding out of the front door, raising his eyebrows at the car. He’d, presumably, taken an extra moment to speak to the Witch. Or pay her. “Uhm—”

“You can follow on foot, if you must,” Taekwoon said, then slammed his door shut, not wanting nor caring about Sanghyuk’s answer. Jaehwan didn’t have anything to say about it as Taekwoon began to drive away, leaving the little beige house in the dust. 

Taekwoon’s mind was chaos, thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. Too many, starting and then getting snatched away before he could focus on them. 

“She’s going to tell them,” Jaehwan murmured as they passed under the freeway.

Perhaps it was best to let his thoughts whirl in the background, for a little while. Lord knew he’d have time, later, to let them tear him apart. “Tell them what?” Taekwoon asked, working to sound normal. 

Jaehwan gave a one shouldered shrug. He seemed— hollow. “Whatever she found, being in a room with me.”

Taekwoon bit at the dry skin of his bottom lip. Downtown was petering off. He couldn’t sense Sanghyuk following them, but he must be. There was no way the vampires would let them go unsupervised. 

“What did she tell you, Jae?” he asked. 

Jaehwan slumped down in his seat, seeming to diminish even further. “Nothing I didn’t already know,” he whispered.

Taekwoon wasn’t sure what that meant, only that it was probably grim. Jaehwan would tell him, when he’d had time to mull it over. 

They drove in silence, the cab of the car growing light then dark in turns as they passed under streetlamps. It was nothing short of a fucking blessing from the universe when they pulled up to the house and Hakyeon wasn’t there waiting. Taekwoon couldn’t— he just couldn’t right now.

The lights inside the house seemed to be off, but there was flickering blue light, coming from the living room window, so Hongbin was watching television. “Come on,” Taekwoon murmured, and led Jaehwan out of the car and inside.

Sure enough, once inside, there was Hongbin, curled up on the couch in the dark, watching an old action film he had seen, no doubt, twenty times already.

“Sacrifice any chickens?” he asked, by way of greeting. Jaehwan did not rise to the bait. In fact, Jaehwan gave no indication he had even heard, he simply strode through the living room and into the kitchen. After a moment, they heard the sound of the pantry door closing. Hongbin looked to Taekwoon, muting the television. “Uhm?”

“I don’t know,” Taekwoon whispered. He felt too tired to deal with this, too worn. Could there be any more, could he take any more. “He’ll talk about it when he’s ready, I guess.”

“Must not be anything good,” Hongbin said, mouth twisted. “Nothing is, anymore.”

Taekwoon looked to the coffee table, where a bowl with a few popcorn kernels sat beside a tweaked radio. Hongbin saw him looking. “What happened, while we were gone?” he murmured.

Hongbin leaned his head on the back of the couch. “No trouble from our vamps, I came inside and listened in, kind of just half-watching this—” His hand swept out to the indicate the movie, and the corners of his mouth tightened. “But— there was an attack, on the border of our city. And a minor break-in up by the Hills, but that isn’t—”

“Our problem,” Taekwoon finished. “The VCF are so useless. And I thought the vamp left.”

“Maybe it did,” Hongbin said. He looked at Taekwoon, large eyes glinting with blue light in the darkness. “This could be a different one.”

The wind was back, howling through Taekwoon’s mind. “I can’t stay inside anymore,” he said, hating how his voice wobbled. “I’ve lost myself, I have to go out and patrol, look around at least—”

“Not tonight,” Hongbin said, unusual authority in his voice. His eyes weren’t eyes, in this strange darkness, glittering like jewels. “Wonshik is around still. But if you want, we can go out tomorrow night. I don’t like it, I don’t agree with it— but I can’t stop you. I’m tired of fighting with you about it. And I don’t want you going alone anymore.”

Taekwoon wasn’t sure how he felt about that, exactly, couldn’t place the medley of emotions clawing at him. He did know that he felt like crying. It seemed like the most pressing thing.

He nodded at Hongbin. “Thank you,” he whispered, turning away. “Tell Jaehwan, will you, that we’re going out tomorrow before dusk?” It was the only way to shake their vampires. Their captors.

“It’s pointless, you know it is, they’ll find us,” Hongbin said, “but fine.”

Yes, Taekwoon thought as he went down the hall to his bedroom. It was pointless. But for a while, an hour, two, Taekwoon wanted to pretend things were _right_ again.

Weariness tugged at him, and Taekwoon clung to it. He did not want to be alone with his thoughts, hoped sleep would be quick to claim him. He could not escape the sight of the bandage on his chest when he changed though, the gentle tug of healing skin when he laid down. 

The house wards were as quiet as they’d been, recently. They still fizzled, but it was gentle, like a flat soda. Wonshik wasn’t on the property, was just around. It was almost peaceful. Taekwoon hated how it made him feel like something was off. He’d gotten so used to Hakyeon being around, being near.

Hakyeon. Taekwoon opened his eyes, peering over his blanket, to look at his desk chair, over which he’d hung Hakyeon’s scarf. He shouldn’t have taken it. Now he’d have to return it. And he didn’t know how he could do that, how he could look at Hakyeon with this weight inside him, knowing all that he wanted, all that was inside himself. Taekwoon had always been aware of the ugliness inside himself, but he hadn't thought himself as evil as this. To turn— and for love of Hakyeon, a vampire— not even for fear of death— no. No. It was a lie. The mirror had lied to him.

Even as he had the thought, he recalled the hold Hakyeon already had on him, and they hadn’t even kissed yet, hadn’t slept together. His eyes haunted Taekwoon, the lines of his body lingering at the edges of Taekwoon’s mind where he could not scrub them out. Hakyeon was, in every way, a vessel of everything Taekwoon had always been running from. 

When the demons come, they will not be clad in scales and claws, but silks and softness, and they will be beautiful. And Hakyeon was so beautiful, so sweet, so soft. So tempting. And Taekwoon, god help him, wanted him even with this new knowledge. And it couldn’t be, it couldn't. The signs were clear, they were _screaming_. If Taekwoon let himself follow where Hakyeon led, he’d end up dead, one way or another. The mirror, even if its image was a lie, still served as a warning. But— he could not see it in himself. He would never consent to being turned. He simply wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Taekwoon curled further in on himself, burying down in his blankets. Tomorrow night, they would hunt. 

——

Hakyeon waited until Taekwoon and Jaehwan’s car was out of sight, until Sanghyuk had flickered off in pursuit of them, and then waited a little more, just because crouching on this roof was peaceful, and dealing with the Witch was going to be anything but.

Finally he knew he had to move, and he stood, shoes catching on the grit of the roof tiles. There was a bubble of warding around the Witch’s house, and he eyed the whole setup warily from across the street. Surely she knew he was coming, but the only way for him to get in would be through the front gate. Trying to come in from above would no doubt be unpleasant for him.

As a rule he disliked wandering around on the sidewalks of residential neighborhoods, too much light and too little cover, but it couldn’t be helped. He moved quickly, relieved when the gate did not shock him, when it let him undo the latch and step into the front yard. 

The front door opened before Hakyeon could even reach it, the Witch lounging in the frame. Her dress was short sleeved and thin, but she did not seem to feel the bite of the frigid night air. Much like Hakyeon. 

“Pay me,” she said sharply by way of greeting, and Hakyeon dug into his coat pocket and pulled out several bills wrapped around a vial of his own blood. She took the bundle wordlessly, looking neither pleased nor disappointed. But if she was unhappy with the payment, Hakyeon knew she would have let him know.

“Well?” Hakyeon prompted, because she seemed content to stand in the doorway counting out her bills.

The Witch flickered a cool glance up and up at him. “I did a reading for him,” she said. “He’s going to die.”

“We already knew he was dying,” Hakyeon said, eyeing the bills in her hands.

As if knowing she was in danger of having him snatch one back, she added, “Dying, yes, but all mortals are dying. I’m saying his death is fairly imminent and unavoidable, most likely. If you were seeking to save him— I’m not certain you can. The future is never set, of course, but it was grim picture.”

Hakyeon absorbed that. What would it mean for them, both the vampires and the hunters, if Jaehwan died. Taekwoon would be broken over it. “Is there nothing that can be done?” he asked.

The Witch shrugged a bony shoulder. “He would not tell me exactly what ailed him— but his energy wasn’t right. The closest I’ve seen was when we had a rogue hunter in and he’d put too many spelled tattoos on his body, and they were sucking his energy off him and transforming it so they could live. They burned bright, while he dimmed.” She paused, fingernail tapping on the vial of Hakyeon’s blood thoughtfully. If she dropped it he wasn’t giving her another. “Jaehwan still burns, but the energy that comes off him isn’t the kind he needs to live. It is like that hunter, like something is taking his energy and making it into something else to fuel itself. But he didn’t seem to have any tattoos or other warding on his person, and I couldn’t sense any taint on him, which probably rules out a curse. It seems to be coming from within him.”

Perhaps it was this strange energy that allowed him to cast the sunlight spell. “Could it be organic? Something that just evolved naturally in him, a mutation?” Hakyeon asked.

She gave him the decency to look like she was thinking about it before she shook her head. “I suppose anything is possible, but I have a feeling he was trying to do something he shouldn’t have, and his body had a reaction to it, and it’s just eating away at him,” she said, and in her valley girl twang, it sounded so much less grim. 

Hakyeon wondered if Jaehwan’s energy couldn’t be persuaded to stop— but that was if it was mutating itself, and not being filtered through some other force. It was wholly possible that while he didn’t have any charms or wardings that the Witch could sense, he had, perhaps, been experimenting with other forms of internal protective warding, to keep Taekwoon and Hongbin safe on hunts. If he’d been using himself as a guinea pig, and set in motion a spell that could not be completed— well, it was possible the warding was trying, over and over, to come into being within his own body, pulling his energy to itself as it struggled to be born. A cycle that would ultimately kill Jaehwan, if the spell couldn’t pull enough energy to find completion. Theoretically, if it got enough of a burst to finish and either come alive, or fail and die, Jaehwan would be free of it.

But that was if that was actually wrong with him. Hakyeon heaved a sigh. Still, it was more than he’d had before. He opened his mouth to thank the Witch, but she was looking past him, blinking meaningfully.

Hakyeon turned, frowning, and got a slight start when he saw Kyungsoo standing outside the gate, wearing a dress shirt and slacks, a slim black tie, and a ferocious scowl. “I have been all over this damn city looking for you,” Kyungsoo said, and the Witch motioned, causing the front gate to swing open, like a ghost butler had attended to her command. Kyungsoo stepped forward, human speed, and the gate swung shut behind him.

The Witch gave a little nod, her knees bending slightly, like she thought she should curtsy but didn’t care enough to really try. “What an honor,” she drawled, straightening and tossing her head so her hair moved out of her face.

“I’m not King anymore, you don’t have to kiss my ass,” Kyungsoo said, and the Witch sniffed, brows drawing together.

“Ah, thank you,” Hakyeon interrupted quickly before she could retort, stepping back. “We’ll be in touch, if anything comes up.”

Aware she was being dismissed on her own property, she muttered something that sounded most unflattering before retreating and shutting her front door with enough force the wind chimes on her porch rattled. 

Hakyeon wanted to sigh, rub at his temples, but Kyungsoo was in a mood and it was better to not show weakness. He walked to his maker, shoes crunching over the browning grass. “What’s happened?” he asked, trying to sound less weary than he was.

Kyungsoo’s lips pressed together in further displeasure, so that was apparently the wrong thing to say. “You’ve presumably been so busy attending to our little sorcerer issue,” Kyungsoo said through gritted teeth, “you’ve lost track of time. While I admire your tenacity, there are other things to attend to.”

Hakyeon blinked. 

“What day is it, Hakyeon?” Kyungsoo snapped out, voice loud and cracking through the night.

That was a question indeed, and Hakyeon stilled, counting dates and matching them. When he realized, he closed his eyes, letting himself wince. “How is it looking, the election?” he murmured and Kyungsoo huffed.

“As well as can be,” Kyungsoo said, and Hakyeon opened his eyes carefully. Kyungsoo still seemed peeved but less so. “I’m leaving tonight, tomorrow the Council gathers and the ballots will be cast, but I don’t want to risk showing up last minute.”

Hakyeon nodded readily. “Of course, you’ll—”

“I will return,” Kyungsoo said, louder, overriding him, “the night after tomorrow. If Chanyeol loses things won’t be pretty, but we have a good deal of support— I am hopeful.”

“As am I,” Hakyeon murmured.

Kyungsoo softened, a little, at his tone. “Everything is settling into place well,” he said. “I wish you had the inclination to be more involved— but, well.”

Hakyeon had no interest in vampire politics. Maybe in a few hundred years he would change his mind, but for now, he was content to stay well out of it. “Did you seek me out just to say goodbye?” he asked.

Kyungsoo shook his head, gaze turning a little stern. “You will peek in on the feeder house tomorrow, first thing after you wake up,” he said, giving the order without hesitance or apology. “Jongin will report to you on the day’s activities, and I want Jongdae to also fill you in on a few things. Just— just make sure it does not burn down, while I am away, yes?”

Again, Hakyeon nodded, but it was not so enthusiastic. He wanted to get back to Taekwoon, soon, before he could begin to dig his heels back in— but he supposed one or two nights would make little difference.

Kyungsoo eyed Hakyeon, gaze skimming over his coat, the silky fall of his hair. “I think, once I return from this nonsense, it will be time to put this business to rest,” he said, motioning casually to the beige house behind Hakyeon.

Hakyeon did not react, though the pit of his stomach felt cold. “Oh?” he asked.

Kyungsoo reached out, fingering lightly at the lapel of Hakyeon’s coat. The motion brought them nearer. “My darling, my child,” Kyungsoo murmured. “This has gone on long enough. And I think you know it. Your efforts to tread carefully have been valiant but ultimately fruitless, no? They need to be pushed.”

Hakyeon wouldn’t say it had been fruitless— Taekwoon was bending, slow but steadily. That wasn’t, though, what Kyungsoo meant. Kyungsoo meant Jaehwan. Jaehwan was the priority, as he should be. And Jaehwan, thus far, had not budged.

Pushing did not seem like a good idea. If Jaehwan was half as stubborn as Taekwoon, pushing would only result in the opposite outcome of what they wanted. What Hakyeon wanted. But Kyungsoo wanted the spell, wanted it on his side, and if that was not an option, then he wanted the threat gone.

Hakyeon could not blame him for it. The Witch’s words hung over his mind like a fog. Jaehwan was going to die. He’d thought it would be from his illness— but perhaps he was looking into the eyes of the cause.

Kyungsoo blinked up at him, waiting for an answer, so Hakyeon murmured, “Yes.”

“Good boy,” Kyungsoo said, cupping Hakyeon’s cold cheek in his equally cold palm.

——

Jaehwan stood in his basement room, alone. The solitude wasn’t new, but he _felt_ it right now, in a way he didn’t usually. Alone. He truly was alone.

Hongbin had cleaned up the mirror shards, and all that was left was the mirror’s frame, a few jagged pieces of mirror still wedged around the edges. Jaehwan went over to it, taking it carefully by the frame and turning it around, so all he had to look at was the cheap particle board of the backing.

Death lingered at the fringes, everywhere he turned. It was exhausting, sitting on these railroad tracks and watching the light of the train come nearer, the ground trembling beneath him. He wondered if there was nothing to do but wait for the inevitable impact, or if the future the Witch had seen was only applicable if Jaehwan chose not to roll out of the way.

The path he was on was going to end. Probably sooner rather than later. It wasn’t _working_. But did it follow then that it was hopeless. If Jaehwan took another path from the one he was currently on, would his fate change, or was this a case of avoid the lightning bolt, get hit by the bullet instead. 

He supposed, he had nothing to lose by alternating. If going at this alone wasn’t going to work, then he’d have to ask for help. But in doing so he would have to come clean to the vampires, and he wasn’t sure that would help so much as propel him into an even earlier death. 

He didn’t seem to have a choice, though.

“Jaehwan?” 

Jaehwan turned, seeing light coming in from the trap door. He went to the base of the stairs, peering up at Hongbin’s face. “Yes?”

“Taek and I are going out tomorrow night,” Hongbin said gently. Unusually gently. It grated. “We won’t be back when you wake up.”

“Hunting?” Jaehwan asked coldly. Hongbin gave a sort of noncommittal shrug. “Fine. Be careful.”

A pause. “Feel better, Jae,” Hongbin murmured, and closed the trap door, leaving Jaehwan to his solitude once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i was really taken aback by the response to the last chapter, so many people said a lot of nice things and i just want to say thank you all ;;;;   
>  2\. people ask if they can translate this (and other) fics into other languages, and the answer is always yes. you don't have to ask us. all we want is credit for the original fic and a link back. i think it is really amazing that people take time out of their lives to translate our stuff so more people can enjoy it.   
>  3\. that being said, we, obviously, don't allow people to steal bits of our work and post it as their own, even if "credit" is given, and even if it is in a language other than english. we don't have a monopoly on vampire and/or vampire hunter fanfic, but the words and ideas we put in our fics are our own, and they're not to be peppered through your own fic and passed off as your own. sorry to get kind of serious business here but there was an issue lately and i wanted to clear things up a little.   
>  4\. my aim is to get the next chapter up within one or two weeks but we'll see. I've already written 35k this month and that is a pretty fair amount, and the next chapter is probably going to be just as long as this one so. we shall see.   
>  5\. i want to reiterate and again say thank you for all your love and support <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay
> 
>  _now_ the plot has started.

The sun shone brightly, burning even through the winter cold, but its light was diluted through grimy windows, falling in bars over dark carpet. Dust floated in the air, sparking among the bushels of foliage hanging from the ceiling. Sitting upon the mantelpiece, a weeping Madonna figure looked out over the empty room.

On a low coffee table was a wooden bowl full of bones, a mirror flipped facedown, and a deck of tarot cards. The Tower card sat face up on top of its brethren, its screaming warning silent, but no less potent for it.

——

Hongbin watched through the day as Taekwoon prepared for the oncoming night. Taekwoon could be quiet, tended to be, but his silence today seemed fervent, almost. A desperate need to focus on the physical, to not think, to just move, move, move. It wasn’t intentional, but it put Hongbin on edge. He wished Taekwoon would talk, wished Jaehwan would as well, but getting either of them to open up was like wrestling sharks.

Then again, Hongbin wasn’t talking either. His repaired phone sat in his back pocket, a gentle pressure and constant reminder of the previous night. He didn’t know what to think of it, so not thinking was easier. Perhaps that was Taekwoon’s thought as well, with regards to whatever was plaguing him.

“Are you ready to go?” Taekwoon’s voice floated from behind him, and Hongbin turned in his desk chair to see him hovering in the door frame. Taekwoon looked unusually pale, his spirit vacant.

“Now?” Hongbin asked. The sun was low in the sky, but not quite setting yet. It seemed a bit early to patrol for vamps.

Taekwoon nodded. “I’d like to go out, get a bit of a head start while the sun is still up. The vamps will be on us the moment night falls. We need some kind of head start.”

Hongbin blinked slowly. He sensed Taekwoon just wanted to get out, wanted to _do_ something. “Alright,” he said easily, and Taekwoon, who’d been bracing for an impact, seemed to ease, some. “Just let me pull on a jacket.”

“I’ll meet you by the front door,” Taekwoon murmured, moving out of sight almost as fast as a vampire.

This was going to be a night, Hongbin thought with a sigh. He stood up, grabbing his mossy green jacket off the back of his desk chair and pulling it on. After a brief moment of thought, he opened the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out the small dagger he kept there. The blade was silver, but the hilt was simple wood, and it wasn’t warded like Taekwoon’s was. But it would do. They’d worried having a knife weighing his pocket down would possibly turn off any potential vampires they were trying to bait, but after what had happened with Hakyeon a few weeks ago, Hongbin didn’t want to go out unarmed again. 

He shoved the dagger into his jacket pocket then left his room after turning out the light. Taekwoon was waiting for him in the darkened living room, and they silently exited the house, making their way to the car. In the warm light, the sky turning yellow and orange, Taekwoon looked severe, but beautiful.

Hongbin sighed again and climbed into the passenger seat, following where Taekwoon would lead him.

——

Sanghyuk had never had a habit of sleeping half the night like Wonshik did, but he wasn’t used to waking before the sun set, being dressed and ready to go before the dark had truly saturated the sky. Vampires didn’t _need_ to sleep as humans did, but they had to, when the sun was up. And it left him feeling slightly off kilter, being made to function when the sun still lingered, even a little, and even if he couldn’t see it in their underground home.

“You will text me if anything is very amiss,” Hakyeon was saying to him from his stance beside their sofa. His slim fingers were doing up the last buttons on his own shirt, a crisp grey number tucked into black jeans that were definitely some kind of stretchy material and not denim. “If, for some godforsaken reason, Taekwoon has decided to wander about the city, inform Wonshik, and he will track him down. I want you to stay at the house and keep an eye on Jaehwan.”

“Wonshik is still sleeping, but fine,” Sanghyuk said, and Hakyeon raised an eyebrow at him in warning. Sanghyuk adjusted his tone, but only a little. “Are you going to tell me what the Witch told you last night? About Jaehwan.”

Hakyeon made a little noise, fussing with his belt buckle, and said, “No. I don’t have time right now. We’ll discuss it later— all of us.”

It was the same thing he’d said the night before, when they’d all gathered back here. The avoidance of the subject made Sanghyuk uneasy. He didn’t believe for a moment that Hakyeon was as unbothered as he seemed. “She told me we fall in love, Jaehwan and I,” Sanghyuk said softly, and Hakyeon froze in his adjustment of his shirtsleeve. It was something he’d been keeping to himself, turning over and over in his mind. He hadn’t been altogether surprised, but it still made him feel a little vulnerable. To know it was coming in a more concrete sense, rather than just from a vague hunch he had, the gentle tug of possibilities solidifying into an inevitable truth. “If it was bad, Hakyeon, I’d like to know.”

Hakyeon sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides. He looked at Sanghyuk, finally, meeting his eyes from across the room. There was a softness in his gaze Sanghyuk didn’t like. “She said what we already knew, that he is dying,” Hakyeon said, and Sanghyuk accepted that with a blink, and nothing more. “She also said some interesting things as to _why_ he is possibly dying, and I have my own thoughts to it, as well as what we can possibly do— but truly, it is a lot to go over, and I would like to do so with Jaehwan. Possibly tonight, after I attend to the house.”

“I want to be there,” Sanghyuk said immediately. It felt, vaguely, like something was squeezing his heart. Something about Jaehwan was just magnetic, his fragility appealing for all that it was dangerous. All humans were dying. Surely there would be something they could do, to prolong his time.

Sanghyuk remembered how cold Jaehwan’s fingers had been, curled in his own, and his hand closed into a fist.

“Of course,” Hakyeon said easily. He looked to the hallway, from which the sound of Wonshik shuffling around his bedroom was emanating, and then to the clock on the mantlepiece. “You need to go, and so do I.”

“Yes,” Sanghyuk agreed. He followed Hakyeon out of their underground dwelling, through the short tunnels and then up through the reaching sprigs of ferns and sapling branches until they were moving of dead leaves packed over earth. They crushed leaves under their shoes, but it made not a sound.

When they left the small copse of trees that hid the entrance to their home they parted ways. Hakyeon’s silhouette was striking as he walked away, the moonlight shining silver on his hair, his shoulders. Sanghyuk went down the slope, moving from a human pace to something more, feeling the magic of his being kick in like shifting the gear in a car. It made him into a shadow, a thought, whispering over the grass and under the trees like the wind.

The night was early enough that there were stragglers, only a few, lingering at the edges of the park, walking briskly home on neighborhood sidewalks. Their hearts beats kicked up as he passed them, but none of them would have seen him, just sensed him as a chill along their spines, a prickle at their napes. It felt like hunting, and Sanghyuk was reminded he would need to feed, at some point relatively soon. Bagged blood could only sustain them for so long; eventually blood right from the source was needed. 

When Sanghyuk reached the hunters’ house, something seemed off. His stomach sank. The car wasn’t in the driveway, and he swore, sending off a quick text to Wonshik that at least one of their human friends was missing. They would have to both babysit tonight, it seemed. 

Sanghyuk made to move onto the roof to await Wonshik, but then stopped, stilling. In the lingering brightness of the early night, it took him a moment to realize that something else wasn’t as it should be— the porch light wasn’t on. Neither was there any ambient glow from the living room windows.

He had a bad feeling. Fast as a heartbeat he flickered into the backyard and was greeted with nothing but darkness there as well. The back porch light was off, as were any lights in the kitchen. Sanghyuk moved to peer through the glass and into the house. Nothing seemed amiss, but it was decidedly empty. Jackets usually hung from the backs of the kitchen chairs, and tonight there was nothing, and the countertop was cleaned, no dishes in the sink.

Sanghyuk held very still, and listened. The house wards rippled against his presence, but he could sense nothing else under them, and more than that— he could hear no heartbeats.

“Fuck,” he said, rearing back, stomping down the porch steps to the side of the house, to where the bedroom windows were. It was dark here as well, and Sanghyuk could see nothing but empty beds, barren desks. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

He strode to the back door once more, and this time, he knocked, loud and decisive. There was no answering sound of stirring from within. “ _Fuck_ ,” he said thickly, with great feeling. This— there’d be time to think about it later, to wonder why. Perhaps, probably, something the Witch had said had spooked them, or maybe they had simply been pushed to the edge by the vampires themselves, but—

The humans had run.

——

Hakyeon was certain Jongdae did not need to talk nearly as much as he was talking. This meeting should have been over very quickly, he rather thought. But Jongdae had a secret little smile on his face, that said he knew Hakyeon was bored, that Hakyeon had better places to be, and that he was going to therefore have much fun in dragging this out as long as possible. 

“I do not think,” Hakyeon said, as his fucking phone began to vibrate in his back pocket for the fifth time, “that when Kyungsoo asked me to come here and check on things in his absence, he wanted you to show me how the items in the fridge have been organized.”

Jongdae put back the tupperware container of spaghetti he’d been holding up for Hakyeon to examine. It was neatly dated, along with everything else in the towering metal fridge. The kitchen was intimidating somehow, surgical with its gleaming appliances. Let it not be said their feeders weren’t well kept.

“I think it is important you know this place backwards and forwards, for all the inevitable questions clients will be asking— especially on opening night,” Jongdae said, closing the fridge door. 

“Indeed,” Hakyeon said icily, and Jongdae’s face finally split into a large grin.

“Fine, fine,” Jongdae said, relenting, and he closed the refrigerator door. “In all honestly, things have been going quietly, smoothly, so I’m not really sure what Kyungsoo wanted me to go over with you. I’ve told you all the basics. You don’t need to know more.”

Hakyeon didn’t need to be around, was the subtext, but he wasn’t overly bothered. “You know I don’t care for these things,” Hakyeon said vaguely. “I mean— I care about Kyungsoo’s interests, definitely, but the details are lost on me.”

“Perhaps you should go into politics instead,” Jongdae suggested, and laughed at Hakyeon’s expression. “It would please Kyungsoo. You could be King, one day.”

“Fifty years of ruling over this sector— I’ll pass,” Hakyeon said, shaking his head. He liked the idea of the respect, both during a term and after, but didn’t think he was cut out for political intrigue. Not currently, anyway. 

His phone buzzed, _again_ , and Jongdae’s eyebrow rose as he glanced down at Hakyeon’s pockets. “Either someone really wants to get ahold of you, or you have a vibrator down there,” he said flatly, and Hakyeon might have blushed. “Either way, you should take care of it.”

“Excuse me, then,” Hakyeon muttered, stalking out of the kitchen and through the back sliding glass doors, so he could have some privacy.

By the time Hakyeon got out onto the back lawn, his phone had stopped ringing, but it didn’t matter, because he pulled it out of his pocket and it started right back up again. Sanghyuk’s name flashed over the screen as he swiped to answer it.

“Sanghyuk?” Hakyeon asked, equal parts annoyed and afraid. He hoped this was something little, like Taekwoon was spraying at Sanghyuk with Fae Sprae, or Hongbin was out in the yard yodelling out a distress signal to the VCF, but he knew deep down that Sanghyuk wouldn’t have called him over a dozen times for that. “What—”

“They’re gone, Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk said, the words breathy and quick. “The house was dark and empty and the car’s gone.” 

Hakyeon went cold all over, in fear, and in anger. How could they run, how could— “Where are you?”

“Wonshik and I nosed around the house and then headed downtown,” Sanghyuk said. Hakyeon could hear how tightly controlled his voice was. “We’ve split up but— Hakyeon if they left at dawn—”

“Then they’re very gone,” Hakyeon whispered, closing his eyes. This couldn’t happen. They had to find them, because if Kyungsoo came back tomorrow night and they’d lost the humans— this would turn into a hunt. 

“What do we do, Hakyeon?” Sanghyuk asked. As if Hakyeon would have all the answers.

“Comb over the city, see if you can’t find any trace of them,” Hakyeon said, like he _did_ have all the answers. “It is possible they aren’t running, that they went on some errand— but regardless, we have to find them. I’m going to go to their house, see if I can’t find anything to indicate where they’ve gone, then I’ll join you in searching.”

“I’ll call you if we find anything,” Sanghyuk said, and then hung up.

Hakyeon put his phone back in his pocket, walking over the lawn with purpose and into the house once more. He couldn’t understand this, he couldn’t— Taekwoon had touched him last night, clever fingers plucking his scarf from around his neck. It had been almost coy. He was too caught up to run. This had to be something else. Could the Witch’s diagnosis have sent them on some off mission, to try and fix Jaehwan? Perhaps. Or maybe they were doing some form of hunter business. Both things were possible, as were a myriad others. 

They wouldn’t run. Taekwoon wouldn’t run. Not from Hakyeon. Not any more.

“Jongdae!” Hakyeon called as he strode through the large living room, plush carpet giving under his boots. One of the feeders, a boy Hakyeon thought was named Jin, started from his perch on the couch as Hakyeon breezed by. Hakyeon paid him no mind. “I have to go, there’s a— situation.”

Jongdae flickered to his side, following as Hakyeon went through the grand hall to the front door. “A situation? Do I need to call Kyungsoo?” Jongdae asked, the words at once concerned and yet threatening.

Hakyeon’s stomach swooped in dread. “No,” he said, measured. It wouldn’t do to seem guilty. “Tonight is— important, to put it lightly. I don’t want to bother him. It isn’t anything he need attend to— but it is something I need to sort out with speed if I can.” 

Jongdae’s eyebrow rose, but he did not question further. “Alright,” he murmured. Hakyeon knew that if this wasn’t election night, if Kyungsoo was simply off on a bit of a getaway, Jongdae would call him regardless of Hakyeon’s wishes. But as it was, Jongdae wouldn’t want to disturb him. Not until everything was done. Until they knew if they’d won.

Which gave Hakyeon until the end of the night to track the humans down. 

——

When Jaehwan made his way up from his basement room, the darkness and quiet that greeted him in tandem served to deeply unsettle him. It wasn’t something he’d come to expect, anymore. Even when hunting, patrolling, was more of a habit for Taekwoon and Hongbin, they rarely left before he woke. It was downright eerie, coming up to an abandoned house, every light off.

“Someone could have broken in, thinking no one was home,” Jaehwan muttered, going into the living room and flicking the porch light on. It was a stupid thought, like a robber could get past the vampires. But Jaehwan was especially on edge right now, low on sleep and tired from magical energy expended, his extra senses dulled by the spellwork thick on his skin. More to make himself feel better than anything, he turned the living room light on as well, and then the kitchen’s too.

His hands were ugly, covered in runes, painted on in a decoction of tea and raven saliva. He didn’t know how they got bird spit, it seemed like a work intensive job. And the end mixture smelled potent and unpleasant, musky in a way that stuck in his sinuses. But he didn’t know how the vampires would react to his secret, so he’d thought it better to be prepared, and had layered his body in a protective spell that wasn’t wholly dissimilar to the warding on their home. The lines of the runes were warm on his cheeks and forehead, the backs of his hands, and the whole spell gave him a dull ringing in his ears, made him feel like he was being gently smothered in layers of blankets. He couldn’t sense much of anything, magically speaking. It felt vaguely like being blind.

And he was tired. So tired. But he had done it, he had gathered all the ingredients for the sunlight spell, sketched out the vague incantation he’d used. It had eaten up some of the night, his preparations, but he hadn’t invoked anything and exploded, nor had he fainted from applying the runes, so as far as he was concerned, it was so far so good.

Jaehwan eyed the kitchen door, biting his lip. How would he do this, he wondered. Inviting them in was out of the question, but having the conversation outside also seemed foolish. They’d have to have it over the doorstep, then, which seemed rude but that was just tough shit. 

He went back into the basement, carefully gathering up the ingredients over a pentagram cloth and tying them up into a little pouch. Once he had them well in hand he went back up to the kitchen, his work notebook tucked under his arm. Then he set about lining them all up on the counter beside the back door, glass vials cool against his fingertips, dried leaves flaking messily. 

“Okay,” he murmured. He was trembling slightly, but because of the runes over his skin, he didn’t seem to be leaking at all. At least, none of their dishware appeared to be trembling with him. 

When he looked out the window, he didn’t see any of their undead friends. The tire swing swung slightly, pushed by an invisible breeze, but that was the only movement Jaehwan could see. Perhaps whoever was here tonight was on the roof; Hakyeon would surely be off chasing down Taekwoon and Hongbin, which meant Jaehwan would be left with either Wonshik or Sanghyuk.

He hoped it was Sanghyuk, and then scrubbed that thought from his mind.

The back door creaked when Jaehwan opened it, a sound that made goosebumps rise on his arms. “Hello?” he called into the darkness. He was tensed, braced for a reply, or for one of the vampires to materialize, knowing it was going to startle him no matter how much he was expecting it. But nothing happened. 

Tentatively, he took a step forward, leaning out of the door to peer all around. Their porch chairs were empty, no sign of any of the vampires having been there. 

“Hello?” he called again, louder, his voice echoing back at him. With effort, he tried to feel with his energy, his magic, but it was like trying to see through a thin blindfold, the runes over his skin cocooning him in. He didn’t think he could sense anything, rather thought that the house wards were quiet. Which was odd, because even through the warding on his basement, he could have sworn he’d felt them fizzling earlier. He’d assumed he’d stopped feeling it because he’d applied the protection spell over himself— but had it actually been because the vampires had gone?

It didn’t seem right.

Jaehwan frowned, leaving the sanctuary of the house utterly, the backdoor gaping behind him as he went down the porch stairs. His shadow went ahead of him, distorted and stretched. 

“Hel _lo_!” he shouted, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify it. He jumped, startled, when a bird crashed out of the tree, flapping away. It had probably been sleeping, but it was the only thing that reacted to his call. 

“Well,” Jaehwan said, gesturing expansively around himself at the unsettlingly empty yard, “this is great. Just peachy.” The one time he actually needed the vamps around and they had taken the night off. It made him feel curiously vulnerable.

A breeze plucked at his sweater, his hair, making the tire swing sway and the branch holding it creak ominously. Jaehwan shivered, moving to go back inside, and instead found himself screaming when a figure materialized out of the ether beside him. The runes on his skin immediately began to do their job, humming with power, but the figure was just Hakyeon, looking— decidedly unhappy.

Jaehwan skittered back, his weak heart racing so suddenly that he felt faint. “You’re here,” Jaehwan said weakly. “Why didn’t you—”

“I’m here?” Hakyeon echoed, scowling. “Yes, I am, and where have you been?”

Jaehwan blinked. The runes on his skin were nearly burning, and he worked to calm himself, breathe deeply. He didn’t want to be outside like this, alone with a vampire. “I’ve been here?”

Hakyeon shook his head, just once, a sharp, painful motion. “Sanghyuk and Wonshik were here before— no one was home,” he said, his tone final. 

Jaehwan, suddenly, was annoyed, very annoyed. Perhaps it was residual from how badly Hakyeon had startled him, but given everything going on, he just wasn’t up for being accused of lying in his own fucking backyard. “Taekwoon and Hongbin have been out, but I was here,” Jaehwan said, straightening his spine. “I was working— in the basement. It’s lined with warding to contain me so if I fuck up, I won’t take the house with me.”

“It looked like no one was here,” Hakyeon said, almost spitting it out. He was— angry, Jaehwan realized. “We thought you’d run. You should have told us—”

“Fuck off with that nonsense,” Jaehwan said, cutting Hakyeon off because Hakyeon was _scolding_ him, like a child. “I’m sorry us not being perfect little hostages made you concerned we’d _run_ — do you even listen to yourself?”

Hakyeon’s face twisted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he said, voice lowering, and Jaehwan snorted derisively. How could he have been about to confide in them, how could he have been so foolish. “I _am_ , Jaehwan. This is bigger than us, and I have superiors to report to.”

That caught Jaehwan’s attention, a bit. He didn’t like it. Not at all. It was a threat, not that Hakyeon meant it as one, but it simply was. “Superiors who want me dead, presumably, and being disobedient would only speed up that process,” Jaehwan said, tired and disgusted, feeling the walls close in.

“I am trying to avoid that outcome,” Hakyeon said, his fingers dipping under the collar of his buttondown, loosening it. There was a light sheen of sweat on his tanned skin. He’d come running, from wherever he’d been. 

He really wanted Taekwoon. At least, with that to count on, Jaehwan could hope Hakyeon would help them rather than harm them. Because if his superiors wanted Jaehwan gone, surely they would want Taekwoon and Hongbin gone as well. Hakyeon would know they were a set.

Jaehwan shrugged, one-shouldered, looking down at the overgrown grass at his feet. “We won’t run, we can’t,” he said. “So don’t worry, we’ll just sit here and wait for the axe.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hakyeon’s hands curl into loose fists. “Where are Taekwoon and Hongbin, then?” he asked.

Jaehwan glanced up, eyes accusing. “One of your kind killed someone else last night. They went to investigate,” he said, and Hakyeon’s mouth twisted.

“You will stay here,” Hakyeon said, _ordered_ , and then he was gone as suddenly as he’d come.

Jaehwan’s runes, almost immediately, quieted, and the indignation rose almost as quickly. He was supposed to be the dangerous one, the prize, but it seemed all three vampires tonight would be chasing Taekwoon and Hongbin down. 

Because they knew Jaehwan wasn’t going anywhere. Weak little thing he was. At least this meant Taekwoon’s little vigilante outing would be short lived— Jaehwan didn’t have a good feeling about his boys roaming the streets. The vampire doing the killing didn’t seem to care much, which possibly made it more dangerous. Hakyeon would find Taekwoon and scold him and drag both Taekwoon and Hongbin back, and they’d be the merry band of hostages once more.

Jaehwan stomped back into the house, eyes skittering over the spell ingredients on the counter, and then set to work scrubbing the damn runes off his skin. He wouldn’t be needing them after all.

——

“A couple more blocks, and then the trail ends,” Taekwoon murmured. Hongbin bent closer to him, the two of them huddled under the awning of a closed cafe, looking at their canvas map. They were in the heart of a cluster of glowing pinpricks. 

Hongbin tapped a couple, agreeing. “Do you think they went underground right around here?” he asked, poking at a dimly glowing dot on an inked street. 

“You know,” Taekwoon started, then bit his lip. he began again. “Hakyeon said vamps often actually travel on rooftops, not underground.” 

Hongbin glanced upwards. That made sense. “Well, either way, we’ll lose the trail there.”

Taekwoon hummed in agreement, murmuring at the map and all the dots went dark, so the map was just a canvas cloth once more. He folded it and stuffed it inside the inner pocket of his leather jacket. “Let’s walk,” he said, and Hongbin fell into step beside him.

They’d parked, and thus started, near the attack site from the previous night, working their way backwards. There’d been a couple VCF cards looping around, but as they’d walked and walked, following their trail of triggered runes, they seemed to have left the circle of their patrols. 

Hongbin slid a glance to Taekwoon. He seemed— better didn’t seem to be the right word. But he definitely seemed more level, settled into himself, not so lost, not so frantic. This was easy ground for him, simple, straight forward. It made him feel in control. On the other hand, Hongbin had quickly gotten used to being home at night. This felt new all over again, uncertain. He wasn’t sure he liked it, which was odd. Maybe he just needed to relocate the necessary headspace.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, turning the corner in tandem to locate one of the last of the runes. It was tucked by the rusted hinge of a door that led to seafood place. In the darkened window, there were tanks of fish and sea cucumbers, their filters humming and splashing. 

Taekwoon bent to look at the rune, poking at it to make sure it had actually been triggered and hadn’t been otherwise compromised, and then he straightened sharply, alert. “What?” Hongbin asked.

“Here,” Taekwoon said, grabbing his hand and putting it in the air near the rune. “Can you feel that?”

Hongbin spread his fingers, palm towards the rune, palm hovering a few centimeters above the wall. The rune felt— fizzy, he supposed, like it was angry. Maybe it hadn’t liked being poked. “It’s all fritzy,” Hongbin said, and even as he spoke Taekwoon moved, tugging the map back out of his jacket and lighting the markers once more. The glowing dots appeared again, but some were shining starkly where they hadn’t been just fifteen minutes prior when they’d looked last. 

“It’s here,” Taekwoon said, tracing a finger down the line of newly shining runes, and then he pointed the way they’d been walking, down the street. “That way.” His high voice was breathy, and he shoved the map back into his pocket once more. “Come on.”

“Hey,” Hongbin said, grabbing his upper arm. “Come on and _what_?”

Taekwoon looked back at him like he’d gone mad. “It’s hunting,” he said, like it was the simplest thing. “We can stop it.”

Hongbin opened his mouth, closed it, and Taekwoon grew impatient, yanking his arm free so he could begin to stride quickly down the street. Hongbin followed, trotting after him. “We should call the VCF,” he hissed in an undertone. “Tell them we saw a vamp heading this way—”

“They’ll spook it, you know they will, they don’t know how to be stealthy,” Taekwoon said, and Hongbin snorted. Taekwoon shot him a look, then continued down the grimy sidewalk, face falling into darkness as they left the light of a streetlamp. “If we can draw it to us, we can finish this, Hongbin.”

They reached the corner and Taekwoon turned, his long strides carrying him quickly. This street was narrower, only two lanes. Hongbin was beginning to pant, agitation prickling at him like the sweat along his brow.

“Taekwoon,” he said tightly, knowing Taekwoon wasn’t going to like hearing this. “I don’t think killing a vampire will go over well with Hakyeon.”

Well, that got Taekwoon to stop, so fast that Hongbin bumped into his back. He looked up, just a little, to find Taekwoon scowling at him, mouth twisted like he’d tasted something sour. “I don’t give a shit about Hakyeon’s feelings,” Taekwoon said, stubborn as always, and then turned and resumed walking once more. 

“One, yes you do, you’re as transparent as a glass of water,” Hongbin said, and had the gratification of seeing Taekwoon’s shoulders tense. “And two, I wasn’t talking about his _feelings_ , because I don’t give a shit about those. I was talking about the fact that Hakyeon’s good graces are the only thing keeping us alive right now, and I don’t know if we should push that too hard.”

“He won’t hurt me,” Taekwoon said, soft but confident. He stepped smartly around a puddle while Hongbin, somewhat simply out of spite, crashed right through it. “You can go back, Hongbin. But we don’t have much time, I want to get this thing, before Hakyeon crashes down and chases it off, or before it goes too far.”

His socks were wet. Fucking hell. “You’re the biggest brat to ever walk the face of this hell planet,” Hongbin said, grabbing at the back of Taekwoon’s jacket to make him stop. Taekwoon whirled, dislodging his hand, but Hongbin held up a hand in a gesture to quiet him. Hongbin reached into his own jacket, pulling out his little dagger. “If Hakyeon gets pissed, I’m saying you forced me.”

Taekwoon was panting too, and he didn’t say anything as Hongbin pricked the index finger of his left hand, then drew that finger in a line across his own neck, smearing a trail of blood there. It wasn't as much as he normally did, but, well, he didn’t feel like putting in the extra mile tonight. If it didn’t work, too fucking bad. 

“My earring is warming up,” Taekwoon said softly as Hongbin shoved his dagger back into his pocket.

Hongbin pushed past Taekwoon, saying, “Well, we better go then.”

Taekwoon didn’t follow, not immediately, letting Hongbin pull ahead of him about half a block before he began to trail after him. Hongbin didn’t like this, he found, sucking on his bleeding finger. Maybe it was because the image of last time was still too firm in his mind, the genuine terror he’d felt when he thought Hakyeon was going to kill him. How things changed. Sort of.

God, the chances of Hakyeon finding them before they found this vampire were high. If Hakyeon killed him for real this time, Hongbin was going to haunt Taekwoon mercilessly. Just knock all his shit off tables, make all the lights flicker.

There were lights on in windows here and there, but as a rule people kept their curtains closed. This was still downtown, but they’d wandered down a street of apartments it seemed. It seemed like an odd place to hunt. Far more likely, the vampire was simply starting here before moving on to better picking grounds. 

“This is stupid,” Hongbin muttered to himself, huddling into his jacket. This time, when he came on a small pool of water cupped in a divot on the cement, he dodged around it. “This is so _stupid_ —”

Hands fell on his upper arms, multiple, grabbing at him, yanking him roughly off his feet. Hongbin cried out, but before he could truly scream a hand slammed over his mouth as he, in turn, was slammed back-first into a wall. His head knocked against the wall, pain flaring through his skull, and he wasn’t sure where he was— an alleyway, narrow, dark— there were too many hands on him—

It wasn't Hakyeon, nor Wonshik, nor Sanghyuk. The hair in his face was blonde and short, and Hongbin screamed even around the hand pressed over his mouth when fangs bit unforgivingly into his neck. He screamed, again, when another pair of fangs sank into him, these ones on the other side of his neck, a little lower than the first. Two, he had two vampires on him, their hands holding too tightly, pressing his chest down until he could barely draw breath. 

There was a shadow moving beyond them, Hongbin thought, something he couldn’t make out through the dark spots skittering over his eyes. It couldn’t have been long, it couldn’t, before there was the pounding of feet on pavement, Taekwoon coming into the alleyway, dagger already in hand. Hongbin could barely see him around the second vampire’s head at his neck. 

Taekwoon rushed forward, but the shadow flickering around manifested, slowing until Hongbin could see it was a third vampire, female, her long black hair down. Taekwoon paused, arrested, as she stepped forward and grabbed his face in both her hands. He’d forgotten himself and looked into her eyes as she’d appeared, and his mouth fell a little slack, eyes wide as they gazed into hers.

It didn’t last; Taekwoon’s earring may have kicked in, or maybe Taekwoon himself was simply too strong-willed to be caught for long. Whichever it was, Taekwoon lashed out, his dagger catching the vampire across her middle and slashing her stomach open. She screamed, falling back, and Taekwoon followed her to the ground, bringing the dagger down as he went. Hongbin didn’t see, couldn’t see, what followed, but her screaming cut off. 

The blond vampire tore itself away from Hongbin’s neck, turning to see why its comrade had suddenly fallen silent. It gave a garbled cry that may have been a name, but Hongbin couldn’t tell around the blood in its mouth. Taekwoon was back on his feet, snarling, and he looked like he should have had fangs himself. The blond vampire lunged for him, but it was sloppy, slowed by the spell in Hongbin’s blood. It hit Taekwoon in the chest and Taekwoon toppled backwards, the two of them rolling over the concrete.

Hongbin wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but the vampire that was still feeding from him was the one who had the hand over his mouth. It’s other hand was on Hongbin’s upper arm. His left upper arm. Hongbin wedged his hand between them, yanking his dagger out of his jacket pocket. There was no way he’d be able to get its heart at this angle, so he settled with stabbing it into the meaty part of the vampire’s side.

The vampire pulled off him with a shout, its grip on both his face and upper arm tightening painfully. It was male, and grizzled looking, like its human life had been all grit and anger. Maybe it had. 

Hongbin yanked his knife free from the vampire’s flesh, but while the vampire had been weakened from ingesting his blood, Hongbin in turn had been weakened from its loss. The vampire grabbed at his wrist, his hand, and Hongbin held desperately onto the knife as the vampire tried to pry it from him. Their arms and hands were wedged between their body, the knife pointed up dangerously, and finally, Hongbin lost, and the knife was flung away, deeper into the alleyway. 

“Gotcha,” the vampire murmured, and Hongbin could only think, _Taekwoon_ , and then the vampire was gone.

Or more accurately, it had been moved, snatched, faster than Hongbin’s eyes could track. Because it came back suddenly, but at Hongbin’s side, slammed so hard into the side of the building that the bricks shook. Hongbin gave a short cry, flinching away. 

“Enough!” Hakyeon screamed, his hand at the grizzled vampire’s neck, pinning it to the wall with ease it seemed. He’d come in faster than any of them had been able to sense, evidently, and he looked more furious than Hongbin had ever seen him. Hakyeon’s eyes flashed, and he looked over his shoulder. 

Taekwoon was in one piece, Hongbin saw with relief. He was straddling the blond vampire’s waist, dagger in hand, his wrist caught in the vampire’s grip. They’d been wrestling for the blade, it seemed, but they froze at Hakyeon words, both of them looking at the Elimia.

“I said, that’s enough,” Hakyeon barked out, and Taekwoon’s face blackened in anger, but he climbed off the vampire, leaving it— alive, he supposed. The female was dead though. Truly dead.

The blond vampire let Taekwoon go, let him get clumsily to his feet, while it rolled onto its side, seeming to be attempting to gather its bearings. It was present enough that it looked furious as well. 

Taekwoon stumbled towards Hakyeon, then apparently thought better of it. His gaze flickered to Hongbin, taking in that he was alive, would be alright, and then looked back at Hakyeon. “They’re the ones who’ve been—” Taekwoon began hotly, his hair all mussed, but Hakyeon cut him off.

“No, no, not right now, I don’t want to hear it,” Hakyeon said, jerking when the grizzled vampire began to wriggle, trying to get out of his grip. Hakyeon whipped back around to look it in the eyes, his hand visibly tightening around the vampire’s neck. Hongbin met Taekwoon’s eyes, somewhat genuinely terrified. Taekwoon stared back, seeming less afraid and more angry. At his side, Hakyeon hissed at the grizzled vamp’s face, “Stop struggling, or I will rip your head from your shoulders.”

Behind Taekwoon, the blond vampire got back to its feet, clumsy, but no less menacing for its lack of vampiric grace. It was shorter than Taekwoon, and stared up at the back of Taekwoon’s head with a hatred that was almost palpable as it stumbled forward. Hongbin’s stomach plummeted, ice gripping his heart. He opened his mouth to cry out Taekwoon’s name, a warning, _anything_ — and there wasn’t even time for that before the blond vampire's hands had reached around Taekwoon’s head, grasping his jaw and jerking sharply. There was a noise, like a sapling branch snapping, the green of it softening the sound around the edges. It would stick in Hongbin’s mind later, how utterly distinct it was. 

Taekwoon fell limply onto the concrete, where he was still, his neck unmistakably broken. 

There was an odd sort of breath in the wake of it, a pause as Hongbin's vision dimmed around the edges, his hearing fading out. It had happened so fast— the grizzled vampire was still struggling weakly at his side, Hongbin could feel his feet kicking the brick side of the building, feel the tremor against his bracing fingertips. Hakyeon’s grip hadn’t faltered, but he was staring behind himself, and he seemed to have stilled, like Hongbin had. 

The blond vampire's hands fell, down to its sides, fingers still curved slightly into claws.

"Oh _God_ ," Hongbin gasped, his voice awful and foreign to his own ears. He fell to the concrete, hands scraping on the impact, and grabbed for Taekwoon's dagger, resting a foot away from his body. Even as he moved, so did the blond vampire, Hongbin could see him, but he could hear nothing, not the pounding of his own heart nor the sound of shoes on pavement. 

Hongbin got his nerveless fingers around the silver handle, everything dim and grey and moving too fast, too fast, his brain couldn't catch up. The icy hands were there, grabbing at his hair, before suddenly they weren't. A foot came down, stepping on the blade and pinning it against the concrete, and Hongbin was frantic, tugging at the handle of the dagger, but it wouldn't come up.

"Hongbin." Hands fell on his own, gentle, tugging his hands away from the dagger. Hongbin looked up blindly, searching, saw Hakyeon's face, calm as a dead sea. The blond vampire loomed above him, behind, face twisted in confusion. "Hongbin, ssh. Don't."

It filtered through to Hongbin he was being loud, his breath was rattling in his chest, sobs tearing through him. _Taekwoon is dead_ , he wanted to say, but he couldn't make his mouth form the words, his lips were numb. 

"They're hunters," the blond vampire said, and Hongbin heard him as if from underwater. He registered, dimly, that others had come. Wonshik's silver hair stood out in the darkness. "He can't be let go, they've just killed one of your own. You can't be _serious_."

"No," Hakyeon murmured, and Hongbin didn't know what he was replying to, what he was saying. Somehow, Hakyeon also looked— numb. As numb as Hongbin's skin, his weak fingers. Or blank. Carefully blank. Hakyeon wrapped his hand around the handle of the dagger, his skin immediately smoking on the silver, and he shifted his foot so he could pick it up, rise back to his feet with it in hand. Hongbin made a small noise, fear stabbing through him sickly as the blade caught the light. He couldn't read Hakyeon's eyes; they just seemed cold. 

"Listen, I don’t know who you think you are, but this needs to be reported—" the blond vampire began, but he cut off with a wet choking noise when Hakyeon buried Taekwoon’s dagger into his chest. This, too, happened very fast, and yet there was a sort of unrushed casualness to the action that Hongbin, even in his daze, found unsettling at his core. 

The blond vampire’s body fell, limp, like Taekwoon’s had, and Hongbin gagged at the similarity. But there was blood this time, spreading out across the vampire’s chest as it lay motionless on the concrete. Hongbin didn’t know what to do, what he could do, heart pounding frantically and nothing to be done for it. Taekwoon was dead, he was _dead_ , it was over in a heartbeat, so fast and yet utterly irrevocable. It didn’t seem possible, it didn’t seem real, and yet his body lay beside Hongbin, solid, close enough to touch. How could they— how—

After a short beat, Hakyeon dropped the dagger, and it landed within reach of Hongbin, clattering loudly and flicking blood drops against him. But he didn’t pick it up. There would be no point. 

Hongbin could see the others. Wonshik, standing beside the last enemy vampire, with its pale blue eyes and gritty cheeks, and Sanghyuk, lurking a bit further back. Too late. They had come too late.

Wonshik’s face was as carefully blank as Hakyeon’s, while Sanghyuk’s was twisted grimly. The grizzled vampire’s mouth was gaping open slightly, confused and angry, and it was shifting jerkily, like it wasn’t sure if it should stay put, run, or charge at Hakyeon. Its eyes flickered between Hakyeon and its fallen comrades.

Carefully, calmly, Wonshik reached out and put his hand on the grizzled vampire’s shoulder, indicating it would be wise to stay where it was. “Hakyeon,” Wonshik said, utterly inflectionless. The world was coming back, and Hongbin could hear his blood rushing in his ears. It was becoming real. He felt like he was going to shred apart. 

Hakyeon didn’t reply; instead he opted to kneel down beside Taekwoon’s body, movements surprisingly clumsy. His face was still blank, and as Hongbin watched, Hakyeon gently touched Taekwoon’s face, closing his open, glassy eyes. Tears fell hot and thick down Hongbin’s cheeks. 

“Hakyeon,” Wonshik repeated, sharper, like he was asking a question that demanded answering.

Soft as a breeze, Hakyeon whispered, “No witnesses.” He didn’t look away from Taekwoon’s face as he said it.

There was a flurry of motion, as the grizzled vampire tried to run, but it was outnumbered, and young, too young, too slow. It made it out of the alleyway, and Hongbin turned away, heard the scream that quickly cut off. Hakyeon didn’t move through it, was still staring down at Taekwoon, his eyes blank. 

Hongbin began to sob, and he wanted to tear his own vocal chords out, claw at himself, crawl out of his body. Anything, anything—

Wonshik and Sanghyuk were back quickly, fanning out behind Hakyeon, and again, Wonshik said, “Hakyeon.”

Hakyeon swallowed. “Wonshik,” he said, slow, measured, “you will clean this up.” Wonshik did not react to that, far too calm, while Hongbin felt like his world was tipping out of orbit. “Sanghyuk. Take Hongbin home.”

 _No_ , Hongbin thought, he couldn’t go, he couldn’t leave Taekwoon—

Sanghyuk’s hands were on him, grabbing his upper arms firmly and yanking him up from behind. Hongbin shrieked, the noise echoing off the walls, through the darkness. Sanghyuk slapped a hand over his mouth, held him firmly against his front with his other hand, and no matter how Hongbin kicked and clawed he couldn’t get free. He was lifted up, shoes no longer touching pavement, and the world blurred as Sanghyuk moved. Hongbin couldn’t look back as he was taken from the alleyway, could only see the image of Hakyeon kneeling beside Taekwoon’s body, Wonshik beside him, head bowed. 

Maybe he fainted; he felt like he was drowning, not enough air in the world. Sanghyuk’s hand was no longer over his mouth when he was next aware of himself, but he didn’t have it in him to scream, could only gasp like a man dying. There was a noxious sickness coming over him like a fog, and he felt dizzy and weak. “No,” he moaned, clawing weakly at the arm wrapped around his waist like an iron band. “No.”

“Ssh,” Sanghyuk said softly, and it wasn’t unkind. Hongbin couldn’t even process it. 

They reached home fairly quickly, and Hongbin was still crying, still gasping. The porch light was on, yellow light radiating from the windows. “No,” he said again, because Jaehwan was going to be in there. And Hongbin couldn’t explain this. How could he have agreed to this, how could he have let Taekwoon hunt again, how could—

Sanghyuk took him up anyway, knocking sharply on the front door. Jaehwan answered quickly, pulling the door open with a frown that froze on his face as he took in Hongbin, crying like a child, and Sanghyuk, holding him still, holding him up. Taekwoon’s absence was almost a presence in itself, screaming in the empty space.

“No,” Jaehwan whispered, and like that, he sounded just like Hongbin. He stepped back, eyes wide, hands coming up to make a _stop_ motion weakly, like he could halt everything by simple desire. “No.” 

Sanghyuk let Hongbin down softly, and Hongbin stumbled forward, legs weak, hands grasping at one side of the door frame and leaning on it. “Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said, placating. He shuffled forward but stopped jerkily, because he couldn’t go inside, didn’t have an invitation. “Jaehwan, listen to me—”

“Where is Taekwoon?” Jaehwan asked, eyes skittering to Hongbin, tears already gathering. They had never prepared for this, never drilled for it. Hongbin couldn’t say it, simply shook his head, and Jaehwan’s inhale sounded like it was scraping his insides raw. 

“We didn’t get there in time. It was quick,” Sanghyuk said, very softly, and there was an awful rending noise as behind him one of the porch’s wooden support beams blew out in a spray of splinters. 

Hongbin fell, tumbling halfway into the house, shielding his face. There was another ominous cracking noise, this one from above; Jaehwan would bring the house down around them. 

“Jaehwan,” Hongbin said, glancing up, but Jaehwan was gone, gone like Hongbin had been, eyes open but unseeing, breath rattling in his chest sickly. He was trembling hard enough to shake apart. The window to their left was steadily cracking. 

“Invite me in,” Sanghyuk said harshly, hands on either side of the doorframe. “Hongbin, fucking invite me in.”

Hongbin swallowed, but the window finally giving and raining glass onto the carpet made the decision for him. “You can come in,” he said numbly, too out of it to think any of this through.

Sanghyuk moved so fast he almost seemed to teleport. He was suddenly in front of Jaehwan, grabbing his wrists. There was a very sharp electrical sound, a crackle, and Sanghyuk’s face twisted but he didn’t let go of Jaehwan, shaking him slightly. “Jaehwan, look at me, Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said. 

The house around them was groaning, and a wide crack burst through the plaster by the chimney. Hongbin thought he could see Jaehwan shimmering slightly, the magic pouring out of him. Sanghyuk’s hands—

“You will kill yourself,” Sanghyuk said desperately, bending to try and catch Jaehwan’s eyes, and Hongbin could feel the glamour, even amongst all of Jaehwan’s energy crackling around him. “Jae, please.”

Jaehwan gasped softly at the nickname, blinking, some awareness returning to his gaze. Sanghyuk pressed his face closer to Jaehwan’s, finally drawing him in. 

“It will be okay,” Sanghyuk whispered, and Jaehwan was letting the glamour take him, falling into it in an attempt to calm himself. “I promise, Jaehwan. I promise.” 

Tears began to fall from Jaehwan’s glazed eyes. “No,” Jaehwan said, face crumpling, “it won’t.” Despite the words, things were calming around them, quieting. Hongbin could feel the lessening of energy in the air like a drop in temperature.

“Let me,” Sanghyuk whispered, and Hongbin didn’t know what his glamour was doing, what he was trying to get Jaehwan to do. “Let me.”

Jaehwan stared up at Sanghyuk, and his shaking lessened, then stopped, shoulders slumped. He stumbled forward, eyelids fluttering, and collapsed against Sanghyuk’s chest. Sanghyuk let gravity pull them both down to the floor, Jaehwan sprawled half over Sanghyuk’s lap. Jaehwan’s breathing was still ragged, but he seemed to be in some sort of induced half-sleep. Some glass tinkled as it fell to the floor, but the house was quiet now. 

Sanghyuk wasn’t holding Jaehwan, Hongbin noted, was keeping his hands up, away. They were raw, sickly so, red with skin near to falling off in chunks. It was like he’d stuck them in boiling water and left them there. 

“I will heal,” he whispered, having caught Hongbin looking. Hongbin hadn’t asked, didn’t know if he cared. As he watched, Sanghyuk shrugged his coat off, revealing a plain black shirt underneath, so as to survey the extent of the damage. The raw redness continued up his forearms, beginning to peter off around his elbows. “Damn.”

Hongbin swallowed, looking down at Jaehwan’s prone form. There were splinters digging into his palms. “You’re a liar,” Hongbin whispered, and Sanghyuk looked at him. “It isn’t going to be okay.” 

Sanghyuk’s face softened and Hongbin hated him. “I trust Hakyeon,” he said softly. “He will take care of this.”

There could be no taking care of it. Taekwoon was gone. And Hongbin didn’t know how they were going to survive this. 

——

“This is wrong, Hakyeon.”

Hakyeon stood up, turning, to look at Wonshik, haloed in barren branches and moonlight. Hakyeon’s hands felt disgusting, caked in crumbly mud, his pant legs soaked with it. He hopped out of the hole he’d been digging— it was just over four feet deep, which wasn’t enough to hide bodies in, but it would serve well enough for his purpose. This was a good spot, concealed and off the trails, in deep enough woods that they shouldn’t be disturbed.

“Did you do as I asked?” Hakyeon asked, kneeling at Wonshik’s feet, right beside Taekwoon’s body. Taekwoon, his skin gone utterly white in death, almost translucent like candle wax. It was stark against the black of his hair, feathering over his soft face. Hakyeon’s silent heart ached for him. He couldn’t be lost like this, no. Hakyeon wouldn’t allow it.

Wonshik did not speak, for a moment, as Hakyeon searched over his own arms fruitlessly for a clean spot. Somehow, Wonshik was able to convey so much with that silence before he said, “I moved the vampires’ bodies onto the feeder house’s property, yes.”

Hakyeon gave up and simply wiped his left wrist over a clean part of his shirt, getting off as much of the grime as possible. “Good,” he said, before he brought his own wrist to his mouth and bit. His fangs broke through tendons, painful, but he would heal. He pulled his wrist away, turning his head to spit out the dirt in his mouth before he held his bleeding wrist over Taekwoon’s mouth, opening his jaw very gently with his other hand. The blood trickled out of the wound, plipping like thick raindrops over Taekwoon’s teeth and tongue, a few droplets hitting his lips and running down over his face. “You will wait to report the incident until just before dawn. They will come tomorrow night, and we shall deal with them then, after I have awoken from this.”

Once he was satisfied he’d given enough blood, he pulled his arm back. Wonshik’s disapproval lay heavy on his back, and Hakyeon had never cared overmuch about such things. He cared tonight, though. 

“When you turned me, you told me the one rule of your house was to never turn someone who was unwilling,” Wonshik said, his words like a whip, lashing out over Hakyeon’s body. 

Hakyeon looked up at Wonshik, placing his hand, bracing, over Taekwoon’s silent chest. He was still warm, vaguely. “Taekwoon isn’t unwilling,” Hakyeon said softly, and Wonshik sneered, stepping back, stepping away, shaking his head. It was so rare, to see Wonshik angry. “He isn’t, Wonshik. He isn’t anything, right now. He’s just dead.”

“He would never consent to this, and you know it,” Wonshik said harshly.

Hakyeon got to his feet, daintily making his way back into the grave he’d dug. “I don’t know that,” he said smartly, leaning out over the edge of the hole and grabbing Taekwoon’s body under the armpits. Wonshik snorted. “I don’t know what his answer would be, Wonshik.” He heaved, pulling Taekwoon’s body along the ground and into the grave with him. Hakyeon hated this, hated how limp he was, how— how dead. 

Wonshik came back to the edge of the grave, staring down and down, at Hakyeon’s upturned face, at Taekwoon’s body curled at Hakyeon’s feet. “You do know what his answer would be,” he argued, kneeling, so his face was nearer to Hakyeon’s. “You’re lying to yourself.”

Hakyeon did not like that accusation. “I know if given the choice between living as a vampire or as a human, no doubt he would have chosen to remain human,” he said, quickly, anger and urgency bleeding into his tone. “But the choice at hand is not that. It is death. Death or vampirism, and in truth, I don’t know which he would have chosen. So I am giving him a chance to make that choice.”

“You are turning him,” Wonshik said simply, like it was the end of the argument, nothing left to refute.

“Because dead humans don’t talk,” Hakyeon retorted immediately, and Wonshik’s face twisted. “If he wakes up and would rather have death— I hate the thought but I will give it to him.”

“You _know_ that isn’t how it works,” Wonshik cried, and Hakyeon turned away from him, giving his attention back to Taekwoon at his feet. He rolled Taekwoon over, from his side onto his back, more towards the edge of the grave, so there would be room for Hakyeon to lay beside him. Wonshik continued, for the lack of Hakyeon’s reply. “If turning was an applicable solution to death looming over our humans, why have you not offered to turn Jaehwan, as a favor to Taekwoon? It would certainly save him.” When Hakyeon still didn’t reply, fussing over Taekwoon’s arm placement, Wonshik said, “It’s because you knew Taekwoon would not want it—”

“Jaehwan is a sorcerer,” Hakyeon said stubbornly, “who would no doubt never consent to being turned and losing his magic, that is why I have not made him an offer.” His gaze skimmed across the fan of Taekwoon’s dark lashes, the blood smeared over his mouth. Hakyeon’s blood. He would not be swayed from this, and looked back up at Wonshik, crouched over the edge of the grave still like a watchful gargoyle. “Taekwoon would not want such a fate for his friend, it is true, but his objection to vampires as a rule has merely been that he thought us all cruel, baseless creatures, devoid of all humanity. Which you know is false, therefore the objection is moot, regardless of whether he believes it or not.” Hakyeon’s voice had begun to go high with fervency, and he took a second to calm himself, swallow, before he continued, more softly. “And he does not believe that, anymore. Not utterly. He knows, at the least, now, that vampires retain sentient thought, our personalities and memories. His horror was fading.”

Wonshik’s face was severe in the sharp moonlight. “Fading but not faded,” he murmured. “And you’re skirting the biggest issue, Hakyeon. He would rather be dead than harm an innocent, than inflicting the pain he suffered on anyone else. While we do not suddenly become moral-less animals, newborns can’t control themselves. He won't mean to, but he will drink someone to death.”

“As his maker, I will not let that happen,” Hakyeon said, tone like granite and meaning the words down to his very core. Wonshik raised his eyebrows. “Do not think me so callous that I would not have thought up a plan for that, too. Taekwoon will never kill a human. I will ensure it.”

Wonshik shook his head slowly, but more to himself than anything. “There is no reasoning with you. You have made up your mind,” he said softly, shoulders sagging. He stood, looming over Hakyeon and Taekwoon in their grave. “But do not say I didn't warn you. This is wrong, and it is going to destroy him.”

Hakyeon sat in the dirt beside Taekwoon’s body, the dampness of the earth immediately soaking through his pants. “Shut up with your fortune cookie piousness and bury us already,” Hakyeon snarled, throwing himself backwards so he was laying against Taekwoon’s side.

His body was cold, now.

——

Moonlight spilled in through the gaping doorway, glinting off the jagged edges of the broken window. Hongbin sat up against the doorframe, looking for all the world like he’d been glamoured. His large, liquid eyes were glassy and red-rimmed. The salt trails had dried on his cheeks, and no more tears were escaping, but Sanghyuk rather thought it was because his grief had turned inwards.

In Sanghyuk’s lap, Jaehwan trembled against his stomach. His tears hadn’t stopped, and every once in awhile a small hiccup escaped. The knob on the front door began to rattle, and Sanghyuk looked down once more, meeting Jaehwan’s eyes. It was easy, to pull him in, pull him out of his grief. Jaehwan was practically throwing his mind at Sanghyuk, desperate to escape. Sanghyuk brought him into safety, into peace and quiet, and Jaehwan’s mouth went slack and the doorknob fell silent.

He couldn’t glamour him forever. The night would end and Sanghyuk would eventually have to leave. He needed Jaehwan to come down, before then, get some kind of grip on himself. 

“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk murmured, and Jaehwan blinked, fresh tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. Sanghyuk sighed. 

They stayed like that, the three of them, a tableau almost, illuminated in icy moonlight, for endless minutes. Sanghyuk almost wondered if he should take Jaehwan home with him, but he’d be useless throughout the daylight. The sun would take him under, and he would do no help to Jaehwan unconscious. 

Sanghyuk sensed it, a moment before the shadow fell over them, a figure suddenly in the doorway. Hongbin jerked, scrambling away, further in the house, and Jaehwan startled as well, half sitting up. Sanghyuk immediately missed his weight across his thighs. 

Wonshik stared down at them all, hands braced in the doorway. He couldn’t come in, but he took in the damage to the house, and to Sanghyuk’s person. His hands had begun to heal, but they weren’t pretty. 

Hongbin took in a shuddery breath. “You,” he whispered, and Wonshik looked down at him, face hard. “Where’s Hakyeon?”

Wonshik had mud caked on his hands. Hongbin and Jaehwan would think he’d been burying the dead vampires. But Sanghyuk suspected otherwise. “Busy,” Wonshik said, and oh, he was angry.

So Hakyeon was definitely in the ground somewhere, with Taekwoon. 

Hongbin looked at Wonshik’s dirty hands, and his face twisted wretchedly, blinking away new tears that he scrubbed away in frustration. “Are you going to let us bury Taekwoon properly, or are you shoving him in a ditch somewhere?” Hongbin asked roughly, voice catching. 

Jaehwan made a little noise, and Hongbin’s mouth snapped shut. Sanghyuk touched Jaehwan’s shoulder lightly, and Jaehwan heaved in a deep breath, steadying himself.

Wonshik watched the whole thing, his expression softening, some. He knelt, so he was more on level with Hongbin, leaning as far in as the house’s wards would allow. “Hongbin,” he murmured, and Hongbin flinched. “We’re sorting it, we are. Wait until tomorrow night, we don’t have time now. Trust us, please.”

Hongbin snorted out a laugh, the sound watery. “Yeah, sure, trust the vampires,” he said, turning his face away from them so they wouldn’t see the new tears fall. 

“We need to go, Sanghyuk,” Wonshik murmured. Sanghyuk’s stomach sank. “There are things we must attend to before dawn.”

Sanghyuk looked down at Jaehwan, who looked back up at him. His face was so delicate, everything about him so fragile. Sanghyuk snuck one arm under Jaehwan’s knees, wrapping the other around his back. It hurt his raw skin, but all that he showed for it was a tightening at the corners of his mouth. Then he was on his feet, Jaehwan in his arms.

Jaehwan squeaked, his arms going to brace himself on Sanghyuk’s shoulders. “Where’s your room, Jae?” Sanghyuk asked.

“There,” Jaehwan whispered, and Sanghyuk followed where Jaehwan was shakily pointing, into a kitchen that was worn, but clean.

Sanghyuk glanced down at Jaehwan’s face, very close to his own. “This is a kitchen,” he murmured, wondering if the glamour had addled Jaehwan. 

“Through there,” Jaehwan whispered, his voice thready and weak. His pulse was fluttering, and Sanghyuk just wanted to spirit him away, ease his pain. But he couldn’t, for so many reasons. 

Jaehwan was pointing at a very slim door that led into a pantry. Sanghyuk paused, his shoulders not even fitting through the frame. Jaehwan wriggled, and Sanghyuk let him down, carefully, unsure if Jaehwan might fall, and Jaehwan immediately knelt, tugging up a secret door in the floor.

“Oh,” Sanghyuk murmured, as Jaehwan slowly eased himself through the opening, down a flight of narrow stairs. After a second of thought, Sanghyuk followed him down.

He found himself in a basement room that buzzed with magic. Concrete floors, a small bed shoved in a corner with plain blankets, and beside it, a deflating air mattress. Shelves lined one wall, jars and boxes of ingredients packed on them. A small refrigerator hummed from another corner, and a desk with various pens and more jars sat cosily up to the wall opposite the bed. All over the walls and ceiling were runes, in chalk, in paint, in blood. 

Jaehwan sat on his bed, half collapsed, really, trembling anew. “Please,” he whispered, and Sanghyuk went to his side, kneeling on the hard floor beside him. “I— just once more, please—”

Sanghyuk took Jaehwan’s jaw in his warm hand, gentle, as gentle as he could be, and met Jaehwan’s eyes. He gave his mind to Sanghyuk, and Sanghyuk didn’t want to damage him, didn’t want to alter his thoughts. He couldn’t take away the grief, could only pull him from it for a time, let him rest. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Sanghyuk murmured, and Jaehwan blinked, his eyelids not raising fully. “Rest, Jaehwan. Rest and remember to breathe. Hongbin needs you.”

“He needs Taekwoon more,” Jaehwan said thickly, eyelids fluttering closed. Sanghyuk eased him back on the bed. Jaehwan wasn’t unconscious, not fully, just glamour-drunk. But hopefully he _would_ sleep, would let the exhaustion take him so the grief wouldn’t.

After a moment of thought, Sanghyuk undid the laces of Jaehwan’s sneakers and tugged them off his feet, setting them aside. Then, quickly, efficiently, he undid Jaehwan’s jeans, tugging them off his legs so he would be more comfortable. Jaehwan’s legs curled, goosebumps raising in the cold air, and he made a small, sad sound. Sanghyuk covered him with the thin blanket, and Jaehwan buried into it gratefully.

When Sanghyuk moved to leave, Jaehwan called out weakly, “Close the doors. Sunlight will kill me.”

Sanghyuk stuttered to a stop, but Jaehwan was snuffling down further into his mattress. He left the basement, taking care to shut both doors snugly on his way out.

——

The hunters’ house was a mess, Wonshik thought as he waited for Sanghyuk to return, but it could have been so much worse. It was still standing, at the least, and looked relatively stable. What he could see of it anyway. In a vague way, he wished Hongbin would invite him in, but Wonshik didn’t even know what he would do, if he did.

“Hongbin,” Wonshik said, and Hongbin didn’t turn to him, didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard his voice. He was sitting on the carpeted floor, amidst shards of glass and splinters of wood. He looked like he should have shattered too, pale and smooth as porcelain. “Are you going to be alright during the day? Should we send someone here to help?”

That caught Hongbin’s attention. “Who the fuck would you send that could make this better?” he rasped.

“We have humans in our employ who could, at the least, help you put the house back together a bit,” Wonshik said, and Hongbin curled away from him. He didn’t say no. He didn’t seem to care.

Wonshik bit his bottom lip. Would telling him that Hakyeon was turning Taekwoon ease his pain, Wonshik wondered. Or would it make him hate them all the more. 

The point was moot for now, he supposed. He didn’t want to say anything before it had worked, because turnings didn’t always take. And it would be downright cruel, to give him hope for seeing Taekwoon again, just for it to get snatched away if it failed. 

Was it cruel of Wonshik, that he almost wished it wasn't going to work? Hakyeon would ache for it, but Wonshik didn’t think Taekwoon deserved this. He didn’t think Hongbin and Jaehwan did either.

Footsteps, the quiet sound of a door closing, and then Sanghyuk was returning from the inside of the house. He paused beside Hongbin, sat on the floor, crumpled like a doll. “Hongbin,” Sanghyuk said carefully, “would you like me to—”

“I want you out of my house,” Hongbin said, not looking up. His voice was so rough. “I want both of you to fucking leave.”

Wonshik supposed that was that. Hopefully the house wouldn’t be levelled come tomorrow night. He got back to his feet as Sanghyuk left the house, and carefully closed the front door. The frame had been tweaked, just slightly, so the door didn’t close very smoothly, catching a bit. But it would do.

“I’m worried about them,” Sanghyuk murmured as they crossed the lawn.

“As am I, but there is so much more to worry about,” Wonshik said, scowling as the anger he’d been tamping down bubbled up once more. 

“Hakyeon is turning Taekwoon, then?” Sanghyuk asked, and Wonshik nodded sharply. “Where are the bodies of the vampires?”

“At the feeder house, stuffed in the basement. I’m going to have to report it to both Kyungsoo and the Council, but not until it is nearly dawn.”

Sanghyuk hummed. “This is— this is not going to be good.”

“No,” Wonshik agreed grimly. “No, it is not.”

——

For all that Hongbin had not been glamoured, he felt curiously floaty, the world hazy and out of focus, everything dull and almost numb. So why was it, then, when he didn’t feel, the tears still came. 

He lay on his side on the carpet, shivering from the icy air rushing in through the shattered window, and watched as the sky outside turned colors. The sunrise caught on the glass still clinging to the window frame, sparking, making the fragments on the floor glitter gold.

Eventually, he couldn’t cry any more, his head throbbed too much, lips dry and cracking. The birds were chirping, and the world was not going to stop for them. He had to get up. He had to live.

But he let himself move slowly, carefully padding into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. As he sipped, he became aware that the heater was on, humming incessantly. It had probably been on all night, trying to compensate for the cold air coming in from the broken window. Their gas bill was going to be hideous. It was a thought that came automatically. He’d care, later, about bills, about survival, even if right now it seemed so insignificant.

There was a tarp, blue and obnoxious, in the shed, and Hongbin retrieved it, dew soaking into his pant legs as he trekked across the backyard. He cut the tarp down with scissors that were somewhat dull, and then set to work duct taping the tarp over the gaping hole that was their living room window. There was nothing he could do for the porch; the outcropping sagged slightly where Jaehwan had blown the support beam out, but it hadn’t collapsed. But it might do, later, if they got too much snow and it weighed it down. And Hongbin had no idea what to do about the cracks in the walls. For all he knew the foundations of the house had been compromised.

Nothing he could do, nothing he could do. He simply made sure the tarp was secure, so at least no more warm air would escape. Then he swept up what he could of the glass. Later, maybe tomorrow, he’d have to vacuum to make sure all the pieces were out of the carpet. But he couldn’t right now. He couldn’t.

There were occasional vague rumbles, coming from the basement, and Hongbin knew the runes would keep Jaehwan contained, but he didn’t like it. It wasn’t safe, but Hongbin couldn’t be up in this house all day, its crumbling plaster too much of a reminder of his own mind. He couldn’t be alone.

He was going to be alone a lot, from now on.

There was a pink towel clutched in his hands, and for a moment, his fingers sunk into the fabric, his knuckles aching with how hard he was gripping it. His breathing rattled in his throat, eyes stinging again.

How could it have all gone so wrong, so fast. Hadn’t he lost enough, hadn’t _Jaehwan_ lost enough. 

Hongbin stepped into the pantry, closing the door behind himself and shoving the towel into the crack at the bottom to block out the light. Then he went down the stairs, carefully. Something knocked into his forehead, unpleasant, but when Hongbin reached up to feel what it was, it wasn’t there anymore.

There was so much magic in the air, it hung almost like humidity, Hongbin breathing it in. It might not have been safe, considering what state the room might be in, but Hongbin flicked the light on, and the switch did not electrocute him. So, there was that at least.

Jaehwan’s room was half chaos, half untouched. The desk chair was crumpled, a mess of wood pieces, like a giant had stepped on it. One of the shelves had flown off the wall, its jars shattered on the floor. But that wasn’t new: what was new was the few handfuls of items that were simply suspended in air, like they were existing in a place of zero gravity. Hongbin tapped a pencil that was floating near his head, and it spun leisurely away. 

Jaehwan was a lump under his covers. He seemed to be breathing, and his eyes were half open, simply glazed. He didn’t say anything, as Hongbin settled down on the air mattress, curling on his side so he was facing Jaehwan. The mattress was so deflated that Hongbin’s hip and shoulder were pressed to the concrete floor even through it, but he was so exhausted, he didn’t care. He wondered, idly, if he’d care about anything again.

Slowly, Jaehwan blinked at him. Hongbin held his hand out, up, towards Jaehwan, palm upturned.

“I don’t think it’s safe,” Jaehwan whispered, and when Hongbin didn’t move, Jaehwan reached out from under the covers and put his hand in Hongbin‘s.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day. Have some angst.

It seemed impossible, that Jaehwan woke up. His limbs felt nearly numb, heavy, everything so distant except the pounding in his head. 

The lights were on— Hongbin hadn’t turned them off before laying down. It made the inside of Jaehwan’s eyelids orange, and he turned his face more towards his mattress before he opened his eyes. 

His workshop was a mess, he noted dimly with a sinking feeling. Glass from shattered jars glittered over the cement floor, bits and pieces of organic spell ingredients littered among them. The air smelled like formaldehyde and earth. It burned in Jaehwan’s nostrils, making him give a small cough. They should probably get out of here.

He looked down over the edge of his bed, at Hongbin asleep on the nearly empty air mattress. His forehead was gently creased, their fingers still entwined. Jaehwan hadn’t hurt him, but it was probably simply because he’d expended all his energy bringing the house to pieces. 

“Hongbin,” Jaehwan rasped, surprised by how weak his own voice was. Hongbin’s scowl deepened, and he didn’t open his eyes. “Hongbin.” Jaehwan gave their hands a shake.

“My head is fucking agony,” Hongbin mumbled, voice sleep-rough. He was so pale, his eyelids agitated and reddened from crying. 

“Mine too, I think it’s because of the smell,” Jaehwan whispered.

Hongbin shook his head lightly, groaning. His eyes fluttered open, but then he immediately squeezed them shut once more because of the glare from the lights. “I think it’s from bawling our eyes out, or stress, you know, like—” He cut himself off, because his voice had been rising and the sound was suffocating in the small space. 

Jaehwan felt his heart stuttering, breath coming out in a rattle that felt like death. If he still had any energy left in him, the house would be trembling too, but as it was, the only sign of his renewed pain was the tear that leaked out of his left eye, soaking into the pillow underneath him. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Jaehwan asked, voice breaking despite his better efforts. He shouldn’t cry any more, it wouldn’t do any favors for his headache. But God, God, he hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. The thought brought such a wave of pain Jaehwan thought he would bleed. 

In response Hongbin jerked his hand away, curling in on himself and burying his face into the mattress. Jaehwan had seen the way his face twisted, his fingers clutching at the blankets like claws. Hongbin said nothing.

“I deserve to know, Bin,” Jaehwan pressed. He didn’t— Sanghyuk had said it was quick. It was a comfort, in a way, even in its awfulness. But it wasn’t enough. Jaehwan tried to get the gumption to sit up, so he could shake at Hongbin, and found himself too weak. 

Hongbin inhaled, the sound shaking. “It happened so fast,” he whispered, and Jaehwan sank into his bed further, letting himself be still. “We were ambushed, I guess, and Hakyeon intervened. Hakyeon is— he’s so old. I thought— but one of the vamps got its hands on Taekwoon and— it was just. Just over.”

When it seemed like Hongbin wasn’t going to continue, Jaehwan murmured, “Hongbin.”

“It broke his neck,” Hongbin said, and Jaehwan’s breath caught. “Is that what you want to know? I didn’t even have time to warn him. He was standing there and then he was on the ground.” Hongbin curled further in on himself, and whispered, “I can’t forget the sound of it.”

Jaehwan swallowed thickly, vision blurry from the tears in his eyes. Fast and painless— he wouldn’t even have seen it coming. He wouldn’t have been afraid. It was the best they could ask for. The only blessing they could get from this. 

It was selfish, so selfish, but all Jaehwan could think was that he was supposed to be the one to die first. This pain wasn’t meant to be his to bear. He was supposed to die and Taekwoon and Hongbin would cling to each other but ultimately _live_. And now what? Taekwoon, as angry as he always was, as stupid, as stubborn, he had always been their guidance, their backbone. He’d picked Hongbin up out of the dirt as a child and gave Jaehwan a home after his family had died. 

They couldn’t live without him. Jaehwan wasn’t going to have to, not for long, anyway. He looked down at Hongbin, anxiety and pain clawing at his heart in equal measures. Hongbin would be left all alone.

“What happened to the vampire?” Jaehwan asked thickly. “The one who killed him.” 

Hongbin’s voice was muffled in the comforter. He seemed to be making himself a cocoon. “Hakyeon stabbed it with Taekwoon’s dagger,” he said. “He killed the other one too.”

Jaehwan absorbed that. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t glad it was dead. But it wouldn’t bring Taekwoon back. 

“What are we going to do, Jaehwan?” Hongbin asked, voice barely audible.

Yes, Jaehwan was older, he should begin to make some kind of plan. It was just that— he was so _tired_.

“I think I need to eat,” Jaehwan murmured. Baby steps would be the key; it was all too much, overwhelming. They’d drown if they tried to take it all on at once. Just breathe, just breathe, and take a step. “I guttered myself out last night.”

Hongbin sighed, but it wasn’t a sigh of burden. It was simply an exhale. Breathe. After a beat he shifted, raising his head off the crinkled sheets to finally open his eyes, squinting up at Jaehwan. Then his eyes widened. “Jae,” he said, soft, and Jaehwan made a noise to show he was listening. “You— your hair’s grey.”

“It’s been grey for a while, Hongbin,” Jaehwan murmured. He pushed himself up, and the motion made him feel sick, arms trembling under his weight. The grey streaks in his hair had appeared after he’d set the spell alive in himself, and had only been worsening with time. Magic, magic eating away at him.

“I mean it’s _all_ grey,” Hongbin said, reaching up to tug at Jaehwan’s hair, bring some over his eyes so Jaehwan could see it. The bits floating in front of his face did, indeed, seem to all be shining silver in the light. “So are your eyebrows and lashes.”

Well, Jaehan thought, that’s a thing. He wasn’t even surprised by it— not with how utterly drained he felt. It was a shame he’d had broken his mirror, so he couldn’t see it.

Hongbin’s hand fell, gently trailing over Jaehwan’s arm. “You don’t look good at all,” he said softly.

“Neither do you,” Jaehwan said, pushing his covers off and immediately shivering in the cool air. He’d be willing to bet he looked far worse than Hongbin, if he was honest with himself. “Help me up, I’m woozy. I need food. So do you.”

Hongbin stared at him, swallowing thickly, and then his eyes shuttered and he stood up. With Jaehwan’s arm slung over Hongbin’s shoulder, the two of them made their way up and into the darkened and silent kitchen. Hongbin helped Jaehwan sit at the kitchen table, got him a glass of water.

“Are you,” Hongbin began, then stopped, wetting his lips nervously. Jaehwan took long gulps from his glass, blinking up at Hongbin. In the dim, cool light, Hongbin looked silver himself. “Are you mad at me?”

Jaehwan put the glass down, swallowing. He had to shuffle through the depths of himself, piecing through foggy thoughts, to form his answer. “No?” he said, finally. “You couldn’t have stopped it, Hongbin. Taekwoon was— he was determined.”

Silence, for a beat. “Are you mad at him?” Hongbin asked, voice breaking on the last word. 

Jaehwan stared down at the water in his glass, the ring it had left on the table. “I want to be,” Jaehwan said, wobbly. “But what good is being mad at him if I’m never going to get to yell at him.”

Abruptly, it was too much, it was all too much, and Jaehwan buried his face in his hands, chest hitching with sobs. 

——

Blood was a strange thing, magical in ways even vampires only understood in a surface sort of manner. When Wonshik woke, he could feel something was different. Or so he thought. Perhaps it was simply a placebo effect. He didn’t remember waking up the night of Sanghyuk’s turning and knowing that he had a new sibling. 

There was just something strange under his skin tonight.

Sanghyuk was awake. Wonshik could hear him moving around in the room next door. He got out of bed, picking his boxers up of the floor and shimmying into them before heading over to speak to him.

It wasn’t wholly a surprise to find Sanghyuk’s door open, the vampire within already dressed, hair combed back. “Going to meet the newest edition of the family?” Wonshik asked, and if he sounded bitter, well.

Sanghyuk looked over at him from beside his dresser, pausing mid-cologne spritz. He was dressed quite nice, simply, but nice, in a long coat and well-fitted slacks. Wonshik raised an eyebrow and Sanghyuk put the bottle down, looking slightly guilty. “No, I’m going to go see the humans,” Sanghyuk said. He eyed Wonshik, lounging mostly naked in his doorway. “Aren’t _you_ going to go meet Hakyeon?”

“No,” Wonshik said flatly, and Sanghyuk gave him a reproachful look. “If Taekwoon survived the turning then Hakyeon will be able to wrangle him with ease. I don’t want to deal with it.”

Sanghyuk sighed. He knew Wonshik too well. Wonshik watched, unmoving, as Sanghyuk came toward him, as Sanghyuk put a hand on Wonshik’s waist, then slid it around to Wonshik’s lower back, thumb catching on the curve of Wonshik’s spine. Sanghyuk nuzzled at Wonshik’s temple, and Wonshik let himself ease, a little, into the touch. 

“I know this isn’t what you wanted, nor I,” Sanghyuk murmured against his skin, “but remember this isn’t how Hakyeon wanted it to go either.”

Wonshik resented that, slightly, because no, Hakyeon hadn’t wanted Taekwoon to die like that, but no one had forced him to turn him, either.

As if reading his thoughts, Sanghyuk added quietly, “It’s done, Wonshik.” He nosed at Wonshik’s cheek, his ear, and Wonshik leaned into him a bit, knowing he was being childish. “It is done and there is nothing we can do but go forward. Taekwoon will be our brother, and Hakyeon— Hakyeon is going to need our support.” 

“This isn’t something I ever thought Hakyeon would do,” Wonshik said in the barest of whispers. He was angry, he found, but underneath that there was a bitter well of disappointment. He’d known Hakyeon so long, loved him so much, and somehow, this felt like a betrayal.

Sanghyuk hummed, lips pressing to Wonshik’s skin. “Nor I.” 

“Does he love him?” Wonshik asked, wanting a reason, a way to justify it. He pulled back to look at Sanghyuk’s somber face. “I wouldn’t have thought so before, but—”

“I think he is fond of him,” Sanghyuk said readily. That wasn’t the same thing, Wonshik thought. “But more than that I think—” He paused, seeming a bit stumped for how to continue. His face squished cutely as his mouth twisted.

Wonshik knew where his train of thought was heading. “Jungsu,” he said flatly, and Sanghyuk nodded with a sigh, drooping.

“I don’t think Hakyeon had even noted the parallels, to be honest,” Sanghyuk said, a bit morose. He tipped his head forward so his forehead knocked against Wonshik’s. “But his reaction to Taekwoon’s death was so visceral, and he was almost fervent, from what you told me, in regards to _needing_ to turn him. I do worry that he is— projecting on Taekwoon, a little.”

Wonshik had nothing to say to that. Only time would tell.

Sanghyuk, ever willing to fill silences, said, “I’m afraid Hakyeon is going to be harshly punished for killing those three vampires. It might have been better to hide it.”

Wonshik pushed away from Sanghyuk fully, then, stepping back out into the hall. That had been troubling him as well. No matter how upset he might be at Hakyeon, he still loved him. Very much. “It would have been too hard to hide the deaths of three vampires in an area Hakyeon is technically semi-responsible for,” Wonshik murmured, rubbing his hand over one of his arms. “They won’t kill him for it. He’s too old, and Kyungsoo wouldn’t allow it besides.”

Sanghyuk stepped into the hallway after him, his boots clicking on the dark wood as he made his way slowly towards the living room. Wonshik followed him, his bare feet silent, making him a shadow. “What did the representative say when you called them?” Sanghyuk asked.

“I didn’t,” Wonshik said, and Sanghyuk looked back at him, eyes widening. “I spoke to Kyungsoo, whom I told to file the report. He’s Hakyeon’s maker so it is technically his job anyway. I gave him the barest of details because I’m not sure what story Hakyeon is planning to tell the Council.”

Sanghyuk paused in their living room, just short of the leather couch. “The Council won’t kill him, but Kyungsoo might,” Sanghyuk said, genuine concern lacing his tone.

Wonshik scrubbed at the back of his head in an old nervous gesture. Yes, there was that too.

Sanghyuk eyed their front door then looked back at Wonshik. “I’m going— are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” he asked. “Or go to meet Hakyeon?” His eyes dropped to Wonshik’s bare torso as he spoke. 

“You go, Sanghyuk,” Wonshik murmured, and Sanghyuk sighed. Wonshik wasn’t going to feel guilty for this, though.

He didn’t want to see Hongbin’s face when he found out. And he didn’t want to be there when Taekwoon woke up.

——

If one was inclined to ask, some vampires would say sleeping in the ground occasionally was important, because they’d come from the earth, their new lives starting here like a birth. It was primal, almost freeing, somehow.

Hakyeon just felt damp, and filthy, as he clawed his way back up to the surface, coming free of the dirt in a way that, he had to admit, was like some grotesque birth. It was just dirt instead of blood. 

He blinked his eyes, feeling clumps of mud fall from his lashes, so he could look around. It was early night, the moonlight filtering through the tree leaves and showing the veins that ran through them. Hakyeon shifted, looking down at himself, streaked with grime, muddy water sunk in uneven patches over his grey shirt. Beneath him the dirt was loose; it hadn’t had time to settle, was still residually fluffy from being dug up and then piled back into the ground. 

It was hard to tell exactly _how_ early it was, since he’d given Wonshik his phone before letting himself be buried. He liked to think Wonshik, once waking, would come to check on him, but he knew that was being a little too optimistic. So his absence did not necessarily denote that they were or were not far into the night.

“Kitten,” Hakyeon whispered, flattening his hands over the ground, dirt squishing between his fingers so they were half buried in the earth once more. “Taekwoon.”

He wasn’t going to dig. If Taekwoon hadn’t made it through the turning then he could be laid to rest here. And if he had made it, he’d surface on his own.

Hakyeon bent, resting his forehead on the backs of his hands. The smell of earth, of greenness and moss, was thick, and he stopped breathing, eyes shutting as he fell still, like the dead thing he truly was. 

Around him the forest was quiet, no crickets still living to chirp, all the frogs hibernating. It wasn’t a sound that warned Hakyeon, but rather the feeling of it, faint, a disturbance. He straightened, standing and stepping back, eyeing the dark, disturbed patch of earth that denoted his shared grave.

Taekwoon broke to the surface in pieces: pale fingers, matted hair, a shoulder. When his face came free he heaved in air, gasping like he’d been drowning. Hakyeon wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure touching would be welcome, so he let Taekwoon haul himself out of the dirt without assistance. Taekwoon was pulling in short breaths, panting, by the time he was curled atop the filled in grave. His hair hung lank, heavy with water and dirt, and he rubbed it out of his eyes with one hand, the other moving to claw at the side of his head— his silver earring. Taekwoon ripped it off himself, tossing it down into the dirt with a soft cry. 

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said very quietly, knowing Taekwoon would need time to adjust to his new senses. Taekwoon’s head snapped up to stare at him, and though the motion was utterly inhuman, his expression was painfully mortal. It was fear. Hakyeon steeled himself, for the wave that would come, the anger and the blame.

“Hakyeon?” Taekwoon asked, blinking quickly. His voice was breathless, his shoulders shaking. His body did not need oxygen, it was simply the panic. Taekwoon’s eyes darted around, away from Hakyeon to the trees, then back, over and over. When he looked up at the sky through the trees, he had to squint against the glaring brightness of the moon and stars. “It’s— you’re— daylight—”

Hakyeon knelt. Renewed dampness sank into the knees of his pants. “It’s night, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said levelly, sounding flat rather than calm. Hakyeon wanted to be softer, comforting, but he was worried if he let himself go at all he’d snap. And he couldn’t snap, not when Taekwoon was probably about to. So he held himself together tightly. 

Taekwoon looked at him, their faces nearly level, and his eyes were still darting, fast, too fast. “Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said, nearly begging, the fear and confusion building. “It’s so bright.”

It was clear Taekwoon had made the connection, clear that he knew, but his brain was refusing to process it. Hakyeon couldn’t blame him. He’d been alive, ruffled but alive— and then seemingly in the next moment he was waking up under the suffocating weight of a grave full of dirt. 

“This is a dream,” Taekwoon said thickly, his gaze skittering down, over Hakyeon’s muddied clothing and down to the disturbed earth between them. “I— I—”

“It killed you, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said very softly, and Taekwoon flinched, shaking his head and causing dirt to cascade off him. 

“No,” Taekwoon whimpered. He hunched in on himself. “No. I would remember that. I’d remember dying.” His breath was rattling now, shaking, as he tried to pull in enough air, but breathing would not longer give comfort like it once had. He didn’t need air. All he’d ever need again was darkness and blood. “This is a dream,” he said again, voice rising in hysteria. His eyes met Hakyeon’s, and Hakyeon fought not to flinch away. “I’m not dead, I was— I was just— just—” 

“It broke your neck,” Hakyeon said, wanting, so very badly, to reach out, to touch. He’d expected the anger would come for him quickly, had been braced for it, but this vulnerable denial was almost worse. Taekwoon was shaking his head again, whispering _no no no_. The whites of his eyes were stark in the darkness. “I— Taekwoon, I turned you. It was all I could think to do.”

Taekwoon breathed raggedly, chest heaving. “Hongbin called out my name,” he whispered, and it wasn’t for Hakyeon. “I felt— coldness—” He reached up with trembling hands and touched the sides of his neck, and for a beat it was like his mind had left his body, his eyes going utterly glassy and blank. Then he was very sharply present again, yanking his hands away from his own neck and clutching at his upper arms instead, curling down. “Oh _God_ ,” he gasped. It was an echo of Hongbin, the moment after Taekwoon’s body had first dropped down to the pavement.

Hakyeon held himself still, silent, knowing there was no explanation he had that could heal this. He could only watch as Taekwoon doubled forward, his desperate breathing turning to hitching sobs. There were no tears, it was like Taekwoon had gone beyond them in his pain; he simply sobbed, the sounds torn out of him. 

Grief was agony, even when the person being grieved was oneself. Maybe especially then. 

“Why didn’t you leave me dead?” Taekwoon moaned. His face was hidden, elbows braced in the dirt, hands clutching fistfuls like his pain was physical and he needed to be grounded. 

The words burned. _Because I’m selfish_ , Hakyeon thought. “Should I have?” he asked, softly. “Would you rather be dead?”

Taekwoon didn’t immediately answer, he just breathed, and Hakyeon stared down at the back of his head, the tense, shaking line of his broad shoulders. Finally Taekwoon’s head fell forward, and he slumped. “I want to be _alive_ ,” Taekwoon said, voice breaking. 

Carefully, Hakyeon touched him. The damp hair at the crown of his head, soft, and then his shoulders, hooking his hands around them so he could pull Taekwoon back into an upright sitting position. Taekwoon went limply, like a ragdoll. He had the eyes of a ghost. 

“I know,” Hakyeon said, squeezing Taekwoon’s shoulders lightly and, when that garnered no response, gave him a gentle shake. “I know, kitten. But that wasn’t the choice. You were dead.”

Taekwoon’s face twisted, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want to be a vampire,” he whispered. Hakyeon let him go, his fingertips trailing over Taekwoon’s arms for a moment before he pulled back.

“You would rather have death?” Hakyeon asked, tongue feeling thick. He’d do it, if he had to. But he didn’t want to. He really, really didn’t, and he would give one hell of a persuasive argument first. Jaehwan and Hongbin would be at the start of it.

The ragged breathing was back. “No,” Taekwoon said, and Hakyeon fought not to show his relief. “No— no, I— I don’t want to be dead but I don’t— I don’t—”

He cut off, and Hakyeon understood. It was a choice that, for someone like Taekwoon, was impossible to make. Which was why Hakyeon had made it for him. 

“Are you hungry, Taekwoon?” Hakyeon murmured, and Taekwoon stilled. It was strange to see him like this, to watch him moving like a vampire. But Hakyeon would adjust. “Are you _thirsty_?”

Through Taekwoon’s parted lips, his panting breaths, Hakyeon could see the very tips of fangs. When their eyes met again, it was a newborn vampire gazing out of Taekwoon’s eyes, the bloodlust sinking into his mind. Steadily, Taekwoon’s breathing was slowing.

“You need blood,” Hakyeon said, and Taekwoon said nothing, just stared, eyes gone empty of thought. “Come.”

Taekwoon stopped breathing, and he followed Hakyeon out of the clearing. 

——

The humans’ house was still standing when Sanghyuk arrived, which, as far as he was concerned, was already a positive sign. As positive as there could be. That front beam on the porch had left ragged edges when it exploded, and the roof of the porch was sagging, just slightly, in the space of its absence. They’d take care of that.

He was, momentarily, alarmed by the empty driveway, before he remembered Taekwoon’s car was parked somewhere downtown. The keys were probably in Taekwoon’s pocket, six feet under. Another thing they’d have to take care of.

Sanghyuk hoped— well, he hoped the inside of the house and its inhabitants were in similar shape to the outside. Slightly damaged but ultimately alright.

He let the shadows ease him to the front door, stepping up onto the worn welcome mat. It would be proper to knock. But the tweaked door wasn’t locked, and so he pulled it open and stepped inside the house. The sound of the door grating against the frame would herald his arrival, though the house wards had no doubt already done a good enough job of it. He could hear heartbeats, both of them fluttering with nerves. One was fluttering a little more softly than the other. 

“Jaehwan?” Sanghyuk called. The living room was dark, though there was light pouring out of the doorless archway that led to the kitchen. “Hongbin?” Around him was still a mess, furniture out of alignment, a wicked crack in the wall. One of the humans, presumably Hongbin, had put a tarp over the shattered window and cleaned up some of the glass. But there were flecks of plaster all over, and as Sanghyuk stepped over the carpet he could hear small pieces of glass crackling under his shoes.

Hongbin appeared in the open archway, casting a long shadow out over the living room. He was backlit so strongly Sanghyuk couldn’t make out his face, squinting through the light. “What the fuck,” Hongbin said by way of greeting. “I didn’t say you could come in.”

“You invited me in last night— I only need to be let in once,” Sanghyuk said, stepping into the kitchen, forcing Hongbin to back up. It was so very bright in here, white counters and white linoleum flooring. Sanghyuk blinked, his eyes adjusting as best they could. 

“I don’t want you here,” Hongbin said, though it was a bit wan, watered down by a thread of fear. Sanghyuk looked at him, unrelenting. Hongbin had broad shoulders, but he looked diminished, lips chapped and eyes red. For someone so angry, so sarcastic and cold, he sure seemed to love Taekwoon very deeply. His reaction to Taekwoon’s death the previous night had caught Sanghyuk unawares. Sanghyuk resolved to treat him like an animal caught in a trap. With cautious respect, but also with understanding. 

He didn’t rise to Hongbin’s hostility; instead he turned away, to where he could smell— food, human food. Pizza, it turned out, a mess of blotchy redness in this white space. Jaehwan was sitting at the table, a half-eaten slice in front of him, and Sanghyuk’s breath caught. 

Jaehwan— Jaehwan looked like a February morning, when the dawn’s dampness had frosted over and left the leaves with thin films of ice, water encasing twigs and blades of grass like crystal tombs. The fluttering sweep of his lashes looked like snowflakes, and his hair was caught between grey and white, the icy shine of it settling it into silver. His skin had a similar quality, a ghost of translucency, like he’d fallen asleep in a meadow overnight and his entire body was covered in a paper-thin layer of ice. With it came the snowy paleness of death, but Jaehwan had pinkness where it mattered, settled over the pointy tips of his ears, the plushness of his lips. His eyes were red from crying, like Hongbin’s, as was the tip of his nose. Not dead, not frozen over, just colder than before. 

“Oh,” Sanghyuk breathed. Jaehwan looked up at Sanghyuk through his lashes, shrinking back a little. 

Hongbin was there suddenly, standing between Sanghyuk and the table, partially blocking Jaehwan from view. “I said I don’t want you here,” Hongbin repeated, the hostility in his voice venomous. “You’ve seen we’re both still alive and here— you can report that back to your master and leave us the fuck alone.”

“Hongbin,” Sanghyuk murmured, “I know this will be hard to accept, but I am here to help, and I _can_ help.” Hongbin’s expression was wretched, but he remembered, he remembered last night, and how Sanghyuk had kept Jaehwan from killing himself and possibly them too. Sanghyuk leaned to his left, a bit, so he could look at Jaehwan around Hongbin’s body. “Are you alright?” Sanghyuk asked. 

Jaehwan’s throat worked, his bottom lip shaking. He looked down at his plate, eyes shining. “It didn’t kill me,” Jaehwan whispered. “So that’s something, at least.” He sniffled, loudly, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. 

“Eat your pizza,” Hongbin muttered at him, and Jaehwan forlornly lifted the slice to his mouth and took a bite, chewing slowly. Of course, he would need sustenance, to build his strength back up. The sheer volume of power he’d displayed the previous night was both awe inspiring and frightening. Hongbin watched Jaehwan chew for a few seconds before looking back at Sanghyuk with those piercing eyes of his. “Where is Taekwoon’s body?”

Sanghyuk heard Jaehwan’s heart stutter, though Jaehwan outwardly did not react to the words. It was strange, that Jaehwan was so very powerful, and yet it was clear that in Taekwoon’s absence Hongbin was trying to step into his shoes as leader, as the pillar of strength. But he didn’t have Taekwoon’s resilience. The cracks were already obvious. It should be Jaehwan, theoretically, that led, but, as Sanghyuk watched Jaehwan nibbling his pizza, he supposed Jaehwan had enough to deal with, since death was on his heels like a shadow.

Hongbin was waiting for an answer. Sanghyuk couldn’t exactly give him one, so he opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was saved from having to weasel his way around some half-truth as his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket.

That would be Wonshik. Or Hakyeon. 

Sanghyuk pulled his phone out, more nervous than he anticipated he would be. Hongbin was saying something, a snide remark no doubt, but Sanghyuk was so focused on the screen he couldn’t pick apart the words.

It was from Wonshik. _Hakyeon’s home, Taekwoon survived._

Sanghyuk held the phone to his stomach, cradling it like it might detonate. Jaehwan had stopped chewing, and was instead poking listlessly at the dried cheese on his plate. Sanghyuk eyed him, then Hongbin, measured. Jaehwan didn’t notice, but Hongbin watched him, suspicious and angry and hurting. If last night was any indication— this could be bad. It could be very bad. But Sanghyuk had no way of knowing until he actually told them. 

Sanghyuk bit his bottom lip. Tact was never his strong suit. “I think you should sit down,” he murmured at Hongbin.

Of course, seemingly just to be difficult, Hongbin simply crossed his arms, not budging. Jaehwan looked up, glancing at Hongbin, then to the phone, then Sanghyuk’s face. He was so very small, somehow, and Sanghyuk was terrified for him. 

“What is it,” Jaehwan whispered. 

There was no way to say it that wasn’t just a blunt punch to the gut. “Taekwoon—” Sanghyuk began, then stopped, looking away from Jaehwan because he simply couldn’t.

Hongbin had been wearing a suspicious scowl, but his expression went slack, arms loosening from where he’d crossed them over his chest. “No,” he said, strangled, eyes gone wide. Jaehwan looked at Hongbin in fear, clearly not having made the jump himself.

“Hakyeon turned him,” Sanghyuk whispered, knowing this wasn’t— it wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. But Hakyeon was his maker, and Sanghyuk would follow where he led. Even if it had led him here, under these harsh lights, Jaehwan’s lovely doe eyes suddenly wide and stricken on him. 

Jaehwan stood swiftly, bracing one hand on the cheap table to help push himself to his feet. Sanghyuk waited for the sound of splintering wood, or cracking glass, but it didn’t come. “Taekwoon’s _alive_?” Jaehwan all but choked out. His face, if it was possible, had gone even paler, lips losing their pinkness with a rapidity that was alarming. 

“He’s a vampire,” Sanghyuk clarified. Jaehwan blinked, and when his legs buckled Sanghyuk was already reaching out for him, but Hongbin grabbed him first, clutching Jaehwan against his chest. The two of them sank to the floor, Jaehwan pressed to Hongbin’s front. His eyelashes were fluttering, but he wasn’t fully unconscious. Hongbin looked like he might faint himself, his face positively grey.

“You let us spend a day thinking he was dead,” Hongbin said numbly. He’d been half-kneeling, but he fell back roughly, knocking against the cabinet under the sink. Still he clutched Jaehwan against his front, though Sanghyuk could see him trembling.

Sanghyuk crouched so he was on their level. “It doesn’t always work,” he explained softly. “And I didn’t want to give you hope, for it to be taken away.” There hadn’t been another way.

Hongbin’s breathing hitched, a puff of air escaping his parted lips, and then it was building, into an awful laugh. His head tipped back with it, and when it subsided he kept it like that, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I fucking hate you all,” he gasped. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face away.

In his lap, Jaehwan was panting, eyes unfocused and darting around. His hand came up, reaching towards Sanghyuk blindly, and his curled fingers caught in the sleeve of Sanghyuk’s coat. “Jaehwan?” Sanghyuk murmured, trying to mask how worried he was. For all that Jaehwan’s breathing was light and shallow, his heart was— well, it was as strong as it usually was.

When Sanghyuk plucked Jaehwan’s hand off his coat, wrapping Jaehwan’s smaller hand in both of his own, he was somewhat surprised when Jaehwan didn’t burn him. 

“Taekwoon’s alive?” Jaehwan asked, again, and Sanghyuk realized the semantics were useless, to Jaehwan. It didn’t matter that Taekwoon was vampire. He wasn’t dead. That was what mattered.

“He’s safe,” Sanghyuk said, rather than repeating his previous answer.

Surprisingly, it was Hongbin who cried first. He let out a small whimper and buried his face against the crown of Jaehwan’s head. Jaehwan followed suit not long after, and he took his hand back to press it over his mouth and muffle his sobs. 

——

Taekwoon was whimpering, mumbling out, “But I’m hungry,” over and over.

Hakyeon crooned at him, toweling a bit too firmly at Taekwoon’s damp hair. He’d needed to give them both a hose down, before anything, but Taekwoon was newborn-petulant about it, his fangs out as he muttered mutinously to himself. 

“I missed some of the dirt in your ears,” Hakyeon muttered to himself, jamming a corner of the towel into Taekwoon’s ear to swipe the grime away. His own skin was still sort of sticky damp, but he’d rushed to put clothes back on himself, and they were catching unpleasantly against him. 

Taekwoon— well, none of them were of a size with Taekwoon, so Hakyeon had just sort of fanangled him into a pair of his own sweatpants. They were several inches too short and dug into Taekwoon’s hips, but it was better than keeping him naked. His clothes were in the wash, salvageable only because they’d been black— except the jacket, which Hakyeon was going to have to scrub by hand. 

He needed to text Sanghyuk, if he couldn’t persuade the humans to pack up some clothes for Taekwoon.

“Wonshik!” Hakyeon called out. “Could you— thank you.”

Wonshik moved in an intangible flicker, going through the kitchen and then coming back to the living room couch with a blood bag in hand. This would be Taekwoon’s third, and he pawed Hakyeon out of the way to grab it from Wonshik’s hands, sucking hungrily at the straw poked into it. 

“Is this your plan?” Wonshik asked, voice flat and unimpressed. He watched Taekwoon curl back into the leather cushions, gulping artlessly. “You know blood bags aren’t enough. The sheer number he’ll need to sustain himself—”

“Shush,” Hakyeon said, draping the towel around Taekwoon’s neck to catch any remaining dampness from his hair. Wonshik fell silent, pressing his lips together. He’d been dressed when Hakyeon returned home, in dark colors to reflect an equally dark mood, it seemed. He’d hardly spoken, hardly reacted, to Hakyeon’s return, to the news of Taekwoon making it through the transformation.

Hakyeon didn’t have it in him to worry about it right now. Taekwoon was enough of a hurdle— and Kyungsoo. Wonshik would come around.

He could see Wonshik stiffen, out of the corner of his eye, watched him begin to stalk away. “They’re to tide him over,” Hakyeon said, and Wonshik froze, “I need to go to the feeder house— I can’t take him, Wonshik.”

“I’m to play babysitter, now?” Wonshik asked coldly. “I don’t approve of this, Hakyeon. I don’t want to help you in this.”

There was a bubbling, gurgling noise as Taekwoon finished his blood bag, the straw pulling fruitlessly on air. Taekwoon tossed it away, immediately mewling for another. Hakyeon placed a hand on his shoulder, firm, to keep him from rising from the couch. 

“I offered him death, when he awoke, and he did not take it,” Hakyeon said, and Wonshik’s face twisted. Taekwoon grabbed at Hakyeon’s thighs, making small piteous noises. “Let me get him through this, Wonshik, in a way I know he will be able to live with. Please— you’ve known me for two hundred years, please trust me.”

Wonshik looked away, down at the plush white rug beneath his feet. It might have been Hakyeon’s imagination, but he thought he could sense a bit of shame in him. He knew he’d disappointed Wonshik, and that was hurtful, in its own way. But he just _couldn’t_ right now.

“I love you,” Wonshik murmured, glance flicking back up at Hakyeon. “And I trust you, Hakyeon. But this—” He looked at Taekwoon, squirming in his bloodlust, and then shook his head.

“I know,” Hakyeon murmured. He grabbed at Taekwoon’s hands, holding his wrists still and leaning down to murmur soothingly at Taekwoon’s face. His eyes were glazed, and there was no indication he understood anything Hakyeon was saying. Newborns had bouts like this, of bloodlust so thick and pervasive they were basically toddlers. But if Hakyeon fed him enough they could get over this stage quickly. The faster the better. “If he changes his mind, I will give him death. If he wants to leave, I will let him do that too. I will do this as right as I can, even if the start of it was wrong. It is the best I can do.” He looked to Wonshik. “Will you accept that?”

Wonshik stared back at him, and then finally lowered his gaze, half-shrugging in a way that was as much of an agreement as Hakyeon could probably hope for. It caught Hakyeon by surprise, how much that little gesture soothed him. He loved his children more than he probably should.

Taekwoon had leaned forward and was gnawing at Hakyeon’s fingers, trying to get him to let him go. His fangs caught unpleasantly, and Hakyeon released him. Taekwoon immediately got his feet up on the couch and launched himself over the back of it, but instead of going towards the front door, he went into the kitchen, banging around and looking for more blood bags. Hakyeon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“I need to go, I will be back very quickly, if all goes well,” Hakyeon said. Tentatively, he went to Wonshik’s side, snagging his hand loosely. “Please, watch him, make sure he stays here and doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Wonshik’s fingers gently squeezed Hakyeon’s. “I will, I promise,” he murmured, voice gone gravelly with the low tone. Hakyeon kissed the corner of his mouth, gently, and Wonshik sighed.

Hakyeon heard Taekwoon get into the fridge, because he made an inarticulate noise of triumph. Wonshik let Hakyeon’s hand go, moving to make sure Taekwoon didn’t tear into all the bags at once, and Hakyeon flickered through the front door, the tunnels, the park, wanting to move as fast as possible. Wanting to get into, and out of, the feeder house before Kyungsoo came back.

So much had happened tonight already and Hakyeon felt worn down to his core, and there was still so much to do. So much to endure. At least, he’d found out when he’d initially returned home, Chanyeol had won the election. Small mercies would be the only thing that kept him alive. He couldn’t even think through the implications right now, too many thoughts in his mind. That would be there later.

Even though the night was fairly young, Hakyeon was still relieved when he walked through the large front doors of the feeder house and he was greeted by Jongdae, and not Kyungsoo. “He’s not back yet?” Hakyeon asked, scanning around the entranceway, like Kyungsoo would pop out from behind a vase. 

“No,” Jongdae said, arms crossing as he looked Hakyeon up and down. Hakyeon was wearing black jeans and a black button down— the better for feeding. Black didn’t stain with blood. “The corpses in the basement are smelling foul already. What happened, Hakyeon?”

“They touched what was mine,” Hakyeon snapped, brushing past Jongdae and making his way to the large common room. “I need the feeders.”

“For what?” Jongdae asked, following close behind. 

“For what we’re paying them for,” Hakyeon said. The common room was well lit, the television on but volume down. There were five humans lounging on couches and chatting, and they all fell silent when Hakyeon walked in. He looked them over, three girls and two boys. “Where are the others?” he asked them.

The curvy girl Hakyeon had made note of on his previous visit motioned to the doors that led to the kitchen. “They’re eating.”

“I’ll get them,” one of the boys offered, a pretty thing with gentle features and an oval face. He got up and did so, and a tall, slender girl grabbed the remote and turned the television off. 

They were so well trained. Hakyeon was glad for it. It would hopefully make this easier. He sat on the couch, next to a boy with honey-colored hair, and to his credit, the boy did not flinch away. Hakyeon would need to learn their names. And possibly raise their pay. 

Jongdae hovered nervously as the pretty boy returned, the remaining two feeders and Jongin following on his heels. It was possible Jongdae had heard about Taekwoon— just in the sense that Hakyeon had made a new child. Given that information, it should be obvious why Hakyeon was here. Which was probably why Jongdae seemed so unhappy. Jongin moved to stand at Jongdae’s side, hands clasped in front of him. He looked curious, but he knew better than to ask questions.

All the feeders settled down onto the couches, their eyes on Hakyeon, alert and waiting. Yixing smiled softly at Hakyeon, while the girl next to him looked prim and somber.

“Alright,” Hakyeon said, making sure his spine was stiff, legs crossed neatly. It would not do to seem nervous, because it would only make the humans nervous in turn about his request. “I am in need of volunteers. Two. I’ve— I’ve made a new child. My goal is to have him never harm a human. In light of it, my plan is to drink heavily from one of you, and let him have me afterwards. It should— sate him a fairly good deal.” Vampires needed magic to survive, the energy carried in human blood. Untainted blood right from a human’s body was thickly saturated, and having been filtered through Hakyeon, it wouldn’t be quite as sweet, but it would do enough to take the edge off. “After that I would let him feed off another of you.”

Jongdae made a noise at that, a soft snort, and Hakyeon fought not to turn to glare at him. The humans had been perkily attentive when Hakyeon had spoken of needing volunteers, but oh how they had drooped by the time he had finished. Hakyeon knew they were, primarily, pleasure feeders, not sustenance feeders. They were around to donate a mouthful here and there during sex, not actually to be properly fed from. And this was asking a lot, even besides that.

“I can promise you, with firmness, that I will not let you come to harm,” Hakyeon said, rawly honest. The feeders still seemed unsure, glancing at one another as if waiting for someone to make a move first. Hakyeon sighed internally. “I am aware of the unpleasantness of this, so of course, I do plan to give extra pay for it. One month’s wages for whoever lets me feed from them, three months’ for whoever lets my new child take a nibble.”

That roused them, the tension in the room dropping immediately. Nothing was quite as nice as incentive. “I don’t mind being a donor for you,” the tall girl said, though her slightly pinched expression said she did mind at least a little. 

Hakyeon nodded, gracing her with a pleased smile. But that was the easier request. He looked at the faces of the others, meeting their eyes, waiting to see if any of them would offer to take the other slot. If none of them volunteered, well, he might have to strong arm Junmyeon into it, or worse, Jongin—

“Can you, truly, promise to keep whoever volunteers from being hurt?” Yixing asked. His face wasn’t judgemental, was simply openly curious, wondering.

 _No_ , Hakyeon thought, _there are always variables_. He met Yixing’s large dark eyes. “Yes,” he said. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to let my child take a good amount— more than a pleasure bite. But I’m not going to let him kill anyone.”

Yixing nodded. “I’ll do it,” he said, surprisingly chipper. The girl next to him slid him a glance that said she thought he was a bit crazy.

“The rest of you are excused, then,” Hakyeon said, and while Yixing and the tall girl stayed sitting, the others all stood, looking a bit unsure before heading either to the kitchens, or to the hallway.

Jongdae came to stand at the side of the couch, murmuring, “Hakyeon.”

“Yes, Jongdae,” Hakyeon asked, and though his tone was pleasant, his smile was razor sharp. Behind Jongdae, Jongin was placid. They were going to tattle on him the moment Kyungsoo came home.

Jongdae sighed. “Nothing.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Hakyeon said sweetly, smacking Jongdae’s ass lightly. “Why don’t you and Jongin go fuck in a parlour, hmm? I don’t need an audience.”

Jongin’s face wrinkled comically, and Jongdae’s kitten mouth pursed. “Bring him back,” Jongdae said shortly, nodding sharply at Yixing. He then turned and left, grabbing Jongin by the elbow and steering him into the kitchen.

Hakyeon looked at the tall girl, with her strong jaw and the regal tilt to her head. “What’s your name?”

“Nana,” she said, smiling thinly. She was nervous, he realized. Well. He was sort of her boss. And it was possible she hadn’t been fed from properly in a long time.

“Good to meet you,” Hakyeon said, and looked at Yixing, who was in a white holey shirt and pajama bottoms. “I will be taking you back to my home for this, and while I don’t think my child will care much about your attire, would you like to change before we leave?”

“Oh, yes, I should put some pants on,” Yixing said, still cheerful, and he stood and left the room swiftly. 

Then Hakyeon was alone with Nana, in this very large open room. He couldn’t hold back his sigh, this time. “Come here,” he told her. She obeyed, sauntering over to him and plopping down unbidden into his lap. That was not what Hakyeon had meant. She smelled like perfume, floral, feminine. She was also waiting for instruction.

Hakyeon placed one hand on her hip, lightly, to steady her, grabbing her wrist with his other. “I think inner arm would be best—” he began, but she interrupted. 

“You said you were going to feed heavily,” she said smartly. “I can tell you don’t like girls, but you can’t be that afraid to touch me.”

Hakyeon let her wrist go, laying a palm heavily on her thigh instead. He squeezed lightly, a warning. “Darling, it’s been a long night, don’t test me,” he murmured, and she looked away, lowering her head in contrition. But she was right, damn her. 

Her hair was up in a ponytail, and the neck of her sweater was wide. Little details that made it easier. When he pressed his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, got beyond the scent of perfume, she just smelled like skin, like blood. 

It was rude to cling, so he didn’t, and to her credit, he found he didn’t need to, because when he bit her, fangs breaking the skin easily, sinking in, she didn’t flinch away. All she did was sigh softly, and it wasn’t really a pleased sigh, but Hakyeon didn’t much care. He was holding his glamour tightly, pulling her in just enough so that the pain was mild, and that was all. He didn’t need her to enjoy this.

Hakyeon drank, and drank, and she let him, pliant. It had been so long since he’d fed well. And the tragedy of it was he was going to let Taekwoon take it all from him. She’d begun to droop, a little, by the time he was done, but her heartbeat was still strong as he pulled away. He felt warm, face flushed with it, and flipped them so he could lay her back on the couch, settling her long limbs over the cushions. She sank back gratefully into them, eyes shutting.

“I’ll have someone bring you some food and water,” he told her softly, and she made a small noise of acknowledgement. With perfect timing, Yixing returned, wearing a pair of serviceable jeans and a jacket.

Hakyeon straightened, running his tongue over his teeth. “Come.”

——

“I want to see him,” Hongbin said. He was standing so stiffly, muscles locked, that he felt like granite. 

Sanghyuk had been looking down at Jaehwan, dazed and laying on the couch, but he turned his gaze on Hongbin. Jaehwan, too, blinked at Hongbin, eyelids seeming heavy. “Me too,” Jaehwan whispered, voice wan and frail

Hongbin was expecting an argument, was braced for it, ready to claw and scream to get his way. But when Sanghyuk spoke, it was placating and mild. “You can,” he said, and Hongbin’s hands loosened from their tight fists at his side. “But not for a few days, at least. Not until he gets the— the bloodlust under control.”

Jaehwan made a little noise. “The spell,” he said, gesturing vaguely at Hongbin.

“Ah, yes, that too,” Sanghyuk said, new assessment in his tone. “That siren spell will need to be stripped off you.”

Hongbin had forgotten about that. He looked down at his body, thoughtful. In the end, he just grunted in acknowledgement.

“I can take it off,” Jaehwan offered.

Hongbin snorted. He felt so brittle. “If you tried to do any magic right now you’d kill yourself,” he said shortly. “Though, hey, if you dropped dead Hakyeon would probably just turn you too. And then may as well just take me as well, so he can have all the human bitches in a nice neat little row.”

His voice had gotten very loud by the end, and he felt sickening close to crying again. Jaehwan’s eyes were sad, and Hongbin couldn’t stand it, so he left the room, stalking into the kitchen where he clawed at the edge of the sink, breathing heavily through his nose.

There was a touch at his shoulder, and Hongbin whirled to see Sanghyuk standing behind him. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Hongbin spat.

Sanghyuk retracted his hand. “I know you won’t understand this,” he said lowly, “but Taekwoon is my brother now. His emotional needs are my own. And he loves you, and Jaehwan. We’re not going anywhere, Hongbin. We can’t.”

It was true that Hongbin had very little frame of reference for vampire relations. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to learn.

 _Taekwoon_ , he thought, swallowing thickly. “He needs us,” Hongbin mumbled thickly. There was no way— no way in hell Taekwoon would be able to cope with being turned. Not when he only had these vamps around him. 

They needed to talk to him. They needed to let him know it was okay. 

“He does,” Sanghyuk agreed. “I’m— relieved, I suppose, that the both of you seem to be willing to stay at his side, rather than leaving him for being a vampire.”

Hongbin couldn’t help bristling. “We may not be blood bound,” Hongbin said snidely, “but Taekwoon is my brother in every other way. And he’s always been the one with the vicious vendetta against vamps, not me, and not Jaehwan. We followed where he led, but I’m not going to turn on him for this.”

Sanghyuk nodded shortly, like this confirmed something. “We’ll reunite you all as soon as possible— I’m sure Taekwoon will be anxious to know you are both alright,” he murmured, cocking his head to the side as if listening for something. “Jaehwan is shivering.”

“The living room is cold because the window is gone,” Hongbin said, deflating a little. There was so much to take care of. Would Taekwoon come back here, he wondered, once he was more lucid. Would he live in the basement with Jaehwan.

“We should move him downstairs, where he can rest,” Sanghyuk said tentatively, quelling slightly when Hongbin glared at him. Oh, Hongbin didn’t like this. This one— this one wanted Jaehwan, and not for his magic. “Just a suggestion.”

“Jaehwan tore the basement up— magically. It is a mess of wood and glass and reeks of chemicals,” Hongbin said, realizing with a sinking feeling that they’d need to clean it up before dawn— it was the only place Jaehwan was safe sleeping. But he couldn’t say that to Sanghyuk.

Sanghyuk bit his bottom lip, face oddly squishy as he did so. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “I was going to offer our home as a safe place for him to hide from daylight, but then I remembered Taekwoon,” he mused, and Hongbin stilled. “There is another place, but I feel like it would not be safe today either.”

He knew. Jaehwan told him. Hongbin was going to throttle him.

Finally Sanghyuk shrugged. “I can clean it up— I’ll probably be faster at it than you,” he said. 

Hongbin could feel his teeth grinding. This was it, this was their life now. He cursed Taekwoon, mentally. Now that he knew he wasn’t dead, he could be mad at him again. The feeling was liberating, oddly joyous, almost. 

_He’s alive, I can scream at him_ , Hongbin thought. Somehow, it made everything feel better. 

“Fine,” Hongbin said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine, you do that.” He pushed off from the sink, going to open the pantry, then the little secret trap door. Immediately, the smell of saturated herbs and preservation fluid wafted up thickly from the basement, making him feel a little sick. “Augh.”

Sanghyuk came to stand beside him. He’d shed his coat, draping it over a kitchen chair. “Oh, that is potent,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Get me some cleaning supplies, and I’ll take care of it quickly— though I think we’ll need to leave these doors open, and probably the kitchen windows too, to air the smell out enough.”

Hongbin breathed. “Fine,” he said, figuring that was best. He’d have to bury Jaehwan in blankets for the duration of it but whatever.

Sanghyuk pushed past him, maneuvering with chilling grace despite his size. He stepped into the basement with surprising swiftness and ease, not bothering to turn on the lights. Of course, why would he. 

“Sanghyuk,” Hongbin called, and he couldn’t really see Sanghyuk turn, but he could sense it, caught the faint glimmering of his eyes in the dark. It raised goosebumps on Hongbin’s arms. “If you’re serious about Taekwoon being your _brother_ —” Hongbin couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Then you’ll stay away from Jae. Taekwoon has been in love with him since I met them.”

He stepped back, going to their supply closet to get a broom.

——

At this rate, Taekwoon was going to drink through the entirety of their stored blood supply, and he had very little to show for it, cheeks only slightly pink. Wonshik eyed him critically, and Taekwoon gave a small burp, tossing his empty plastic blood bag down onto the kitchen island. 

“Lovely,” Wonshik said with a sigh, and Taekwoon blinked uncomprehendingly at him. It just wasn’t enough. A new vampire needed too much energy, and bagged blood was mostly dead.

Taekwoon had been prowling to the fridge, hands curved into claws, when he paused, stilled, head cocking to the side. Wonshik straightened alertly. He couldn’t hear whatever it was Taekwoon had caught onto, but he’d be willing to bet it was Hakyeon. Maybe Hakyeon returning with a human. 

Wonshik grabbed Taekwoon by the upper arm, his hold not exactly tight, but controlled. Taekwoon made a noise of indignation as Wonshik guided him into the living room. The house’s wards were fizzling, not in a way that suggested an intruder, but just in a ripple from being disturbed. Wonshik could hear the heartbeat, going a little fast, a little strong. Taekwoon could definitely hear it as well, eyes trained on the front door. He’d begun to wriggle, trying to step forward, but Wonshik held him fast. 

The front door opened, and once the seal of the house was parted Wonshik could _really_ hear the heartbeat. He caught sight of Hakyeon, and behind him, Yixing, who Wonshik knew from— well. But he only saw them for a brief flash, before Hakyeon snagged Yixing and flickered into the house with him, down the hall and away. Taekwoon made a noise of confusion, twisting around to try and dislodge Wonshik’s hand. His fangs were run out fully, and he was panting.

“You can let him go, Wonshik,” Hakyeon’s voice called out from the hallway to their left. Wonshik didn’t like the idea, but he obeyed, and Taekwoon immediately ran from him, chasing the sound of that pounding heart. Wonshik followed closely, just in case. 

Hakyeon was in the doorway of one of the guest rooms, hands braced on the frame, back against the closed door. Yixing was nowhere in sight, though Wonshik could hear his nervous heartbeat, coming from behind the door. Taekwoon was already there, pawing at Hakyeon, trying to get him to move, to open the door so he could squeeze around him, but Hakyeon was infinitely stronger, and wasn’t moving. Taekwoon whined, high in his throat. Wonshik tried to guess Hakyeon’s thinking, and found he couldn’t. 

He wasn’t going to let Yixing die tonight. He liked Yixing.

“Kitten,” Hakyeon murmured, gently taking Taekwoon’s wrists in his hands to stop his frantic darting around. Wonshik noted the thick flush on Hakyeon’s cheeks, the dampness of his temples. He was warm, he was heavy with blood. “Me first, kitten.”

And then it clicked, for Wonshik. He stepped forward, undoing the top buttons of Hakyeon’s crisp shirt since Hakyeon had his hands full enough. Taekwoon watched the motion, though he was still moving, squirming, like he just couldn’t help it. 

“You think this’ll work?” Wonshik asked. He tugged Hakyeon’s collar out of the way, baring the long, smooth line of his neck. It was a lovely sight, and he smelled so thickly of fresh blood, but he lacked the heartbeat to be truly alluring. 

“I think it will be enough to keep him from hurting Yixing,” Hakyeon said tartly. His face softened, when he turned his gaze on Taekwoon, and he tilted his head, drawing Taekwoon nearer by the grip he had on his wrists. “Kitten, Taekwoon, here—”

But Taekwoon looked at Hakyeon and simply mewled, still trying to get around him to the door. Hakyeon sighed, murmuring, “Wonshik.”

Wonshik undid one more button on Hakyeon’s shirt, then he leaned down and bit into the side of Hakyeon’s neck, fast and deep. Hakyeon gasped, his head thunking back onto the closed door. Wonshik didn’t suck, didn’t feed, just pulled back, so Taekwoon would see the puncture marks, the blood flowing thickly out. Yes, Hakyeon lacked a heartbeat, but blood from a vein would always be appealing. Wonshik swallowed thickly.

Taekwoon took Wonshik’s place, burying his face into the juncture of Hakyeon’s neck and shoulder. He moved so fast it was like he thought Hakyeon was going to be ripped away from him, and once he tasted the blood he seemed to forget, momentarily, of Yixing. “Ah,” Hakyeon gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as Taekwoon bit into him, probably too hard, too rough. He let Taekwoon’s wrists go in favor of holding onto Taekwoon’s waist, and Taekwoon drank and drank, noisily, blood escaping and dripping off his chin. Hakyeon whimpered periodically, marking each time his wounds healed and Taekwoon bit into him again, and again, to keep the blood flowing. When Hakyeon’s eyes opened again, staring at the ceiling, they were bright with pain.

And Hakyeon was going to do this every night, Wonshik thought. At the least, until Taekwoon could be trusted to control himself. So probably around a week. After that they’d still have to watch him, but he should be able to maintain his lucidity enough to not turn into— this.

“Hakyeon,” Wonshik murmured, and Hakyeon arched against the door, gasping sharply, when Taekwoon bit into him for the countless time. He was doing it more, at faster intervals, probably because the blood was coming slower now, thinner. The flush was gone from Hakyeon’s cheeks.

“God, he’s— he’s very enthusiastic,” Hakyeon panted, reaching up to stroke the back of Taekwoon’s head with one hand, the other going between their bodies, dislodging Taekwoon and making him pull back. Taekwoon whimpered in confused reply, fangs still extended, lips shining and parted. “That’s it, kitten, you’re going to utterly drain me if you keep going.”

There was a mess of blood smears on the side of Hakyeon’s neck, his collarbone. He looked at Wonshik, who was slightly ashamed that his own fangs were still run out. In his defense, Hakyeon’s were there too. 

“Wonshik, will you—” Hakyeon began, and Wonshik immediately stepped forward, doing up the buttons of Hakyeon’s shirt. It made Hakyeon smile wryly. “I was actually going to ask if you would get the door, and help me with this next part.”

Wonshik hummed in assent, looking carefully at Hakyeon’s face. His lips were so pale. “Are you alright?” he murmured. Taekwoon was burbling in displeasure, back to trying to squeeze uselessly around Hakyeon and through the door. Though he was less fervent now, and decidedly pinker. 

“Yes, I’m fine, though _I’m_ going to need like five blood bags after this, so I hope Taekwoon left some,” Hakyeon said darkly. He pushed off from the door, grabbing Taekwoon as he went. “Open the door, help me with Yixing.”

Wonshik obeyed, and once he had the door open Yixing’s warm human scent was obvious in the small space. It was a guest room, simply furnished in pale blue tones. Hakyeon had probably picked it on purpose. Wonshik entered the room, swiftly moving to where Yixing was sitting on the edge of the bed. Yixing— well, he was usually more enthusiastic, less nervous. And a little less pale. Though to his credit, he had shed his jacket and shirt, folded them neatly and set them on the pillows. He was ready. He moved to stand when Wonshik came in, eyes darting behind Wonshik to the open door, but Wonshik motioned for him to stay seated. 

“Sit. We’re not going to let him hurt you,” Wonshik murmured lowly, and Yixing swallowed, pulse jumping in his throat. He was always so mild, so sweet. It didn’t surprise Wonshik that he had volunteered for this.

Taekwoon came into the room, held back by Hakyeon’s hand on his wrist. He was making unhappy little squawking noises. “Wonshik,” Hakyeon said, and Wonshik put a knee on the bed, looming half-behind Yixing. If Yixing’s heart went any faster it was likely to explode.

Wonshik wrapped his hands around Yixing’s neck, gently. His pulse fluttered against Wonshik’s palms. “To keep him from biting somewhere he shouldn’t,” Wonshik said softly. Namely Yixing’s jugular. He felt Yixing swallow against his hands, but he nodded, as best he could with Wonshik’s hands around his throat.

Hakyeon manhandled Taekwoon, scuffling for a moment, twisting Taekwoon’s arm behind his back to make him stop struggling so much. His other hand clamped down on Taekwoon’s shoulder, and between that and the hold on his twisted arm, Hakyeon had a good amount of control on him.

“Should I bite him?” Wonshik asked. Yixing was shaking, leaning back into the warmth of Wonshik’s body. Wonshik looked at Taekwoon, assessing what Yixing was seeing. A newborn with sharp fangs, hair feathering over glazed eyes. He swiped his thumb over Yixing’s neck, soothing.

“No,” Hakyeon said. In careful, controlled motions, he guided Taekwoon across the room until they were standing right in front of Yixing. Taekwoon was making soft noises, whining. “I worry Taekwoon would just nip him again. Here, kitten, here—”

It was an awkward angle, and Taekwoon didn’t care, needed no prompting this time. Hakyeon guided his face into the meaty juncture of where Yixing’s shoulder met his neck, and Yixing jerked, crying out when Taekwoon bit into him. Wonshik was glad he’d put his hands around Yixing’s neck— one because it kept Yixing from moving much, and two because Taekwoon had gotten very close, his cheek pressed to the back of Wonshik’s right hand as he fed. 

Wonshik made soft soothing noises, glamour-laced, as he nuzzled into Yixing’s ear. Taekwoon fed from him with the same artless gluttony that he’d done with Hakyeon, though this time he only bit the once, because Yixing didn’t heal. Wonshik’s eyes flickered up to Hakyeon’s face, found it hard as granite, watching the back of Taekwoon’s head carefully. He still had his hold on Taekwoon’s arm, his shoulder, fingers digging into skin.

But Taekwoon, with his free hand, had grabbed Yixing’s arm, and Yixing was wincing even through the glamour Wonshik was putting on him. “If he takes much more I’m going to be napping for days,” Yixing mumbled thickly. 

“I’ll pay you for that too,” Hakyeon said simply, but he twisted on Taekwoon’s arm sharply. Taekwoon made a little pained noise, body curving to accommodate the strain, but he didn’t release his hold on Yixing, and he didn’t stop feeding. Hakyeon sighed, and he let Taekwoon go.

Yixing made a high noise of fear when Taekwoon grabbed him with his other hand too, drawing him nearer, no sign of stopping. Wonshik froze.

Hakyeon reached into his pocket, pulling out a very small silver dagger. In a flash he had grabbed Taekwoon’s hair with one hand, and with the other he pressed the flat of the silver blade to the tender spot just under Taekwoon’s ear. Taekwoon, well, Taekwoon screamed, jerking away from the burning pain, letting Yixing go, and Hakyeon seized him, saying, “Wonshik—” 

Wonshik grabbed Yixing quickly, sliding him out from under Taekwoon and out of reach, away, across the room, out into the hallway. Taekwoon was whimpering softly in the wake of it, but Wonshik was inclined to think it was less from the loss of his food, and more from the shock of the pain. The noises were drowsy— which was a good thing. Wonshik closed the guestroom door on the sound, then carried Yixing back into the living room.

In his arms, Yixing was trembling like a frightened animal. “You did well,” Wonshik murmured, setting Yixing down onto the sofa. He shivered when he made contact with the cool leather, probably cold from blood loss. He was certainly pale. But Wonshik could tell he was alright, just a bit shaken up. “It’s okay.”

“I thought Hakyeon was going to let him kill me, for a second there,” Yixing gasped, hands holding his own upper arms. 

_For a second, so did I_ , Wonshik thought. He grabbed the blanket off the back of the armchair. It was thin and more for decoration, but it covered Yixing’s chest well enough. “I’ll get you something to nibble,” he murmured, going into the kitchen.

By the time he had Yixing sorted, munching on a granola bar with a steaming mug of tea on the coffee table beside him, it seemed Taekwoon had settled. Hakyeon emerged, alone, from the hallway, holding Yixing’s shirt and jacket. He looked slightly disheveled, tired, but overall pleased.

“He knocked out,” Hakyeon said when Wonshik looked at him expectantly. “I hung a charm on the doorknob, to keep him in the room— but he seemed exhausted.” That was— good, it was good. Newborns would feed, and sleep, and feed, and sleep. If Taekwoon had been swept into slumber, it meant he’d gotten enough blood for tonight.

But fuck, that had been a lot of hassle.

Hakyeon came and patted Yixing on the head softly, setting the clothing in Yixing’s lap. “Five month’s pay, I think,” he muttered, and Yixing’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry.”

Yixing shook his head, ever sweet, ever soft. “He just scared me,” he said, and Hakyeon sighed.

“Do me a favor and downplay it to your coworkers— since we’re going to have to do this at least tomorrow night as well,” Hakyeon muttered, rubbing at his temples. He turned, heading to the kitchen. “I need a blood bag.”

Hakyeon got his blood bag, and he had come and sat down with it too, sipping hungrily, when a knock fell on the front door. “Fuck,” Hakyeon said, teeth stained red.

Kyungsoo had arrived.

——

Wonshik opened the door, while Hakyeon stood quickly, running his hands through his hair to try and smooth it, making sure his shirt was as crisp as it was going to get, tucking the ends back into his jeans. 

Kyungsoo didn’t wait to be shown in properly, simply swept into the living room, his head held high, bearing calm. Hakyeon wasn’t fooled, knew a show when he saw it. Trailing a step after Kyungsoo was a woman who, in her heels, was slightly taller than him. She had on a neat grey pantsuit, hair up in a chignon that felt too old for her young, soft face.

She didn’t smile, which Hakyeon kind of appreciated. Her kind always had fangs. 

“Master,” Hakyeon murmured, inclining his head at Kyungsoo. Then he turned to the woman, inclining his head at her in turn. “Councilwoman.” 

“My darling first born,” Kyungsoo said, placing his small hand on Hakyeon’s cheek, kissing the opposite side of his face delicately. The Councilwoman sighed, just slightly. There was no need to dig the point in, but Kyungsoo didn’t seem to much care. Hakyeon might have been touched by the gesture, but he knew Kyungsoo was going to have his balls later. “We waited at the house for you, but you did not return soon enough. This is Seo Joohyun, she was chosen to represent the Council in investigating your case.”

“Yes, and I would like to get to it,” she said pointedly, heels together, hands clasped in front of herself. She slid a sharp glance at Yixing, who was quickly shoving himself back into his shirt and jacket.

“It is good to see you still alive, Yixing,” Kyungsoo murmured, and Yixing looked sheepish. “So nice that my new grandson didn’t kill you.”

“Quite singular,” the Councilwoman said tartly. 

“I’ll take Yixing back home,” Wonshik said, offering. He met Hakyeon’s eye, and Hakyeon gave a very slight nod. Yes. They would not kill him tonight, and if they did want to, well, Wonshik’s presence wouldn’t make a difference.

Wonshik scooped Yixing back up into his arms, leaving the house in a flicker. Once the house wards had settled back down from his departure, Hakyeon gestured at the couches. “Would you—”

“No,” Councilwoman Seo Joohyun said. She had little humor about her, and even less patience it seemed. “I would like you to tell me in a direct, truthful fashion, of what transpired last night.”

Kyungsoo plopped onto a couch, picking up Hakyeon’s abandoned blood bag and adding, “As would I.” He sipped at the bag lightly, eyes bright and sharp.

Hakyeon looked at the Councilwoman, deciding soft innocence was not the way to go. She was not one to be moved by such displays, and they would probably only make her less likely to cooperate. So Hakyeon squared his shoulder and didn’t flinch. “I killed them, in a fit of anger, because they killed a human I had laid claim on,” he lied simply. 

Kyungsoo sighed heavily, but Hakyeon did not look at him, was holding eye contact with the Councilwoman, whose face had not changed.

“I probably should not have killed them in retrospect,” Hakyeon continued flatly, “but my temper is not the best.” 

“Quite,” she said shortly, but then she turned, sitting primly on the edge of the couch, opposite to Kyungsoo. Hakyeon fought not to outwardly relax, to hold himself tall and firm. He didn’t sit. “This human— he is now your new child?”

Hakyeon inclined his head. “I had been grooming him, training him,” he said. It wasn’t an utter falsehood— but it was a stretch. “This was not how I would have chosen to turn him— but I am still pleased it worked.”

She hummed. “I would like to meet him,” she said, and Hakyeon stilled. Fuck.

He glanced to the hallway. “He is sleeping, I believe. He fed a good deal.”

In tandem, the three of them cocked their heads to the side. There was no sound, from any direction, implying that Taekwoon was, in fact, still sleeping.

“I will fetch him, if you—” Hakyeon began, swaying as if he would move, but to his relief she made an impatient hand gesture.

“I’d forgotten about newborn nonsense. Leave him, I’ve not the patience.” Seo Joohyun inhaled, and then let it out in a long sigh. “You know, if you had gone about this the _right_ way,” she said smartly, “then those vampires would have been punished for such a transgression. You could have pursued action, and won, and now instead you are on the chopping block.” She sat back, gaze assessing. Somehow, she made the couch look like a throne. 

“What he said of his temper is for true,” Kyungsoo said easily. He finished off the blood bag, tossing the empty plastic down onto the coffee table. “I have spoiled him.”

Hakyeon looked down, as if he was ashamed of having brought this upon his maker. 

The Councilwoman made a small noise, lips pursing. “There must be a trial,” she said, and Hakyeon lowered his head. He’d expected as much, but it was still a bit of a blow. “I would pass judgement upon you now— but the nestmates of the vampires you killed want to pursue action against you.”

Hakyeon’s head snapped up. “ _Nestmates_?”

She smirked, just a little, and it was as awful as Hakyeon could have imagined it would be. A shark grin. “You didn’t know they were a nest,” she said.

“I didn’t either, Hakyeon,” Kyungsoo said. “I only found out because they’d gone looking for their dead brethren, and the Council’s ears picked them up.” When Hakyeon looked at Kyungsoo, his eyes were flat, giving nothing away. But Hakyeon was elated by this news, and surely Kyungsoo was too.

Hakyeon and Kyungsoo weren’t official seat holders, but they were old enough that this area was, in a way, entrusted to them. And it was fairly common knowledge that it was so. Vampires passing through here and there were welcome to hunt in the area, so long as they moved on. But a nest— nests were supposed to declare themselves, and more than that, they sure as fuck weren’t supposed to be hunting for a prolonged period of time in one area without permission.

Hakyeon had been pretty much within his rights to kill them anyway, even without the transgression of Taekwoon. They’d been in his city, drawing attention to themselves, making trouble. 

_Dammit_ , Hakyeon thought. He should have looked into it. Another thing Kyungsoo would probably ream him for later. But he hadn’t expected a nest to behave so foolishly, and in the territory of a retired King no less.

“You can probably tell, this trial will most likely go in your favor,” the Councilwoman said sardonically. She uncrossed her legs and stood, and Kyungsoo got to his feet swiftly. “Nevertheless, you are still awaiting sentencing for murder, until the trial does take place. You are quite old, so I shall not make you suffer the indignity of arrest, provided your maker, former King of sector twelve, will promise upon the blood that he will keep you from fleeing.” She looked down her nose at Kyungsoo, eyebrow quirked expectantly.

“He won’t run,” Kyungsoo said simply. There was no threat in the words, no echoing stern glare. It was nothing but fact. Hakyeon would not run.

“Excellent,” the Councilwoman drawled. “Let us return to your place of business then, Kyungsoo, I am most anxious to meet these nest members.” She didn’t wait for Kyungsoo to agree, already stepping off the plush rug, her heels clicking sharply on the hardwood flooring. Over her shoulder, she called, “You shall be informed of your trial date within the next few days, Hakyeon.”

Kyungsoo moved past Hakyeon, grabbing his wrist and squeezing for a very brief flash. It made Hakyeon’s stomach drop. 

“I will come by tomorrow night, to check on my new grandson,” Kyungsoo murmured, the threat bleeding through. He didn’t wait for a reply, simply followed the Councilwoman out of the house.

Hakyeon stood alone in the empty living room. He reached out, grabbing at the back of the couch as he slumped forward. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

Kyungsoo would want to know the proper truth. Beyond that— a trial. Fucking hell if Hakyeon had _known_ they’d been part of a nest, he could have cited that as the reason he had killed them. Instead, this relied on shaky half-truths. And he would be punished for this. He wouldn’t be killed, he wouldn’t, and he knew it, but this was not going to be pleasant.

And that was if he lived till the trial. He let out a short bark of humorless laughter. In truth, he didn’t think Kyungsoo was going to kill him. But he knew he was going to be quite unhappy. At least this had happened after the election was over. That little detail might just save Hakyeon.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Was it worth it, he wondered. He thought of Taekwoon, of the awful sound of his neck snapping. It echoed back in Hakyeon’s mind, as did the sight of a body falling limply onto concrete. 

Hakyeon hadn’t been able to walk away from it. Not again. It would have destroyed him. 

The house was so quiet, and Hakyeon felt tired down to his bones, but his mind was buzzing. But there was no point in fretting over the trial right now. 

He made his way down the hallway, to the room Taekwoon was sleeping in. There was a round, disk-like charm hanging from the knob of the door. It would keep Taekwoon from touching the door, keep him in. Hakyeon didn’t like the implication, that he was keeping Taekwoon hostage, but he didn’t want him getting out and hurting anyone in a fit of bloodlust.

Slowly, carefully, Hakyeon turned the knob of the door, pulling it open as quietly as he could. He just wanted to check, on his new little love. A sleeping Taekwoon was probably the best Taekwoon, right now.

Hakyeon poked his head through the crack in the door, and was a little surprised to see Taekwoon was awake, sitting up in bed, hands in his lap. When Hakyeon pulled the door open fully Taekwoon’s head swiveled so he could look at Hakyeon. There was no expression on his face; in his deadness he looked like a statue, marble, or maybe ivory, his skin so pale. The flush from feeding was wearing off. It would last longer, the older he got. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be awake,” Hakyeon said, mostly for his own benefit, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind himself. Taekwoon said nothing, did not react, even as Hakyeon drew nearer, standing beside the bed. The emptiness of his eyes made Hakyeon wonder if he was back in the bloodlust again. The thought made his stomach sink. Surely, he should be lucid, he’d just fed so much. “Taekwoon?”

Taekwoon looked away from him, moving to stare ahead of himself blankly. His shoulders were rounded slightly, the line of his neck, to his collarbones, down his arms, was lovely. 

Softly, so softly, his feathery voice barely there, Taekwoon whispered, “I’m really dead.” There was no inflection in the words, they were as flat as his gaze, as empty as his expression. “It’s not a dream.”

Hakyeon closed his eyes for a moment, against the pain in those words. He felt so worn down, in the wake of— everything. The night’s events had taken a toll on him. But Taekwoon was his child, and this was Hakyeon’s responsibility. For the rest of time.

“Yes,” Hakyeon said gently, sitting down at the edge of the bed carefully, so he didn’t bump Taekwoon’s legs. “You’re really dead. I’m sorry, Taekwoon.”

Taekwoon’s eyes dropped, gazing down at the lazily patterned bedspread, at his own hands. This— Hakyeon hadn’t wanted this, but perhaps he should have expected it. Taekwoon had always just been so angry. Anger was easier to deal with. Anger was emotion, anger _cared_. The Taekwoon that sat before him, spine curved, lashes heavy, felt like a Taekwoon that had bypassed anger for sadness, for despair and hopelessness. 

Hakyeon could work with anger, could wear it down into acceptance. But hopelessness was about building up, not wearing down. And that was something else, something very different. _This is wrong, and it is going to destroy him_ , Wonshik had said. No, Hakyeon wasn’t going to let Taekwoon go to pieces. Even if it wore Hakyeon to the bone to keep it from happening.

“I heard— voices. I remember— I— the boy I drank from—” Taekwoon whispered. It was flat too, but the question was obvious.

“He’s alright,” Hakyeon said, firmly. “His name is Yixing, he’s a feeder who works for my maker. Wonshik took him home. When you’re more in control, you can meet him properly. I promise, I didn’t let you hurt him. I’m not going to let you hurt anyone.”

Taekwoon swallowed thickly. “My mouth tastes like blood,” he murmured. His brow hitched, hands clenching in the bedspread. “I never wanted this.”

Hakyeon didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t think there was anything he could say. No, Taekwoon hadn’t wanted to be a vampire, not ever. But he hadn’t wanted to be dead either.

Taekwoon’s hands clenched even tighter in the blanket, knuckles paling further than they already were. “You wanted this, though,” he said, looking up at Hakyeon through his lashes, eyes cold. Here was the anger, the hatred, that Hakyeon had been waiting for. Even though he’d prepared for it, it felt like too much, right now.

Hakyeon got to his feet, putting a little distance between them. Taekwoon’s eyes followed him, burning. “I didn't want this, Taekwoon, and I would have saved your human life, first, if I could have. When I intervened, I thought that was what I was doing,” Hakyeon said, fighting to keep his voice steady. He wasn’t going to rise to anger, or worse, cry. “I am not a monster and I am not happy this happened to you. I swore I would never turn someone unwillingly. But you were dead, just dead. And it was the only way I knew to save you. I know that while kicking, you never would have wanted this. But I also know that looming death changes one’s perspective. It sure as fuck changed mine. So I ask again: would you rather be dead?”

Taekwoon’s face twisted. “It isn’t that simple,” he ground out. 

Hakyeon looked away, drooping a little. Anger was easier, he reminded himself, anger was better. Even if it hurt. “I _know_ , kitten,” he said, staring down at the carpet, at the fall of the blankets over Taekwoon’s bed. “Emotionally, things are never simple. Your life was taken from you, and I’m sorry, I know you won’t believe it, but I am. This is not what I would have wished for you.” Hakyeon looked back at him, assessing. Taekwoon was so pale, lovely in death. But the silence of his lost heartbeat was forlorn for all that it was an absence of something. Its loss had almost become a presence. “But the action, the choice, is simple. Even though this is not the path either of us would have wanted, it is the one we were put upon the moment that fucking vampire snapped your neck. So all that remains now is the question of whether you are going to accept it, and walk it with me.”

Taekwoon inhaled then exhaled loudly. He looked away, surly, scowl heavy over his eyes. His mouth twisted into something like a grimace, and when he spoke it was like the words were rotted. “I can’t choose death,” he said acidly. “You knew that when you turned me. You’re a manipulative snake.”

There was truth in the words, and it made them sting more. Yes, Hakyeon was selfish, manipulative. He did think, truly, that in the end turning Taekwoon was— maybe not _right_ , but certainly at the least justifiable, and ultimately better than the alternative of leaving him dead. So what if he had had personal motives mixed into the bargain.

He’d all but fucked over those personal motives in doing this. 

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped you would choose to live, even if this life was a different sort,” Hakyeon said softly, and Taekwoon glared up at him. “I didn’t kill you, Taekwoon, I was trying to— trying to do what I thought was in your best interests.”

“And your own?” Taekwoon spat. “You may not have killed me, but stop acting like you didn’t gain from it all the same. You knew in turning me you’d have control over me, you’d have me vulnerable and reliant on you, you’d— you’d _have_ me.”

The words stirred Hakyeon, some, and it didn’t speak kindly on his character. He did want Taekwoon, but—

“Yes, I have you, in all those ways, but what good is it if you despise me? And truthfully, I thought you would, for this,” Hakyeon said, knowing it was true. For all that he had said of logistics to Wonshik, and for all that he’d known Taekwoon would, most likely, choose to go on as a vampire if given that death was the only other option— he also knew he would probably be taking the blame for this. From all sides.

Even so, he’d do it again.

“If you knew I’d despise you then why?” Taekwoon asked, ever suspicious, almost accusing. Self-consciously, he crossed his arms over his bare chest, hands cupping his own elbows.

Hakyeon traced over his features, remembering him laying on the pavement, his catlike eyes glassy, unseeing, hair strewn in delicate flutters over his face. The sight had left his heart heavier than it had been in a long time. “Because when I saw you die I— I simply couldn’t not try, Taekwoon. You were so young and had spent your life so angrily, it just seemed cruel, that you should— that it would end that way. You deserved more.”

Taekwoon curled in on himself a little, like he was trying to shield himself from Hakyeon’s words. “Spare me,” he whispered, swallowing thickly.

“No,” Hakyeon murmured. In this, he would have no mercy. He approached the bed again, but instead of sitting on it, he simply knelt beside it, so he was looking up at Taekwoon’s face. Taekwoon stubbornly avoided his eyes. “Kitten, I’m your maker now, I think with time you will understand more, the weight of that. You’re my blood. I did not do this lightly, simply to get you into my bed. Please do not think me so petty as that.”

Taekwoon still refused to look at him, but he seemed to be deflating with every word Hakyeon spoke. “Why won’t you just let me hate you,” he asked in a whisper, the despair creeping back.

“If you wish it, then I’ll accept your anger,” Hakyeon said gently. “Hating me, blaming me, might make things easier.” Taekwoon looked at him tentatively, not turning his head, just glancing. Hakyeon sought to meet his eyes, earnest, but Taekwoon’s gaze had already skittered away. “I know this was ugly of me. I knew this would be hard for you, painful. But I also thought, in the end, you deserved another chance, even if it came at the expense of—” Hakyeon fell silent, trying to think of how best to say it. Softly, he finished, “At the expense of any future we could have had.”

That seemed to jar Taekwoon, and he met Hakyeon’s eyes finally, struck breathless. Hakyeon couldn’t make out his thoughts, his expression seemed simply— lost. 

“I— you— I’m supposed to believe that?” Taekwoon asked roughly. Hakyeon could tell he was trying to sound snide, but he missed the mark by a wide margin. “That you— you’re not going to use this—”

“I’m not,” Hakyeon cut him off, firmly. He meant it. “I promise.” Taekwoon looked so frightened, so lost, so desperately like he wanted to believe this but was too suspicious. Always too suspicious, always wary. Hakyeon wondered at how Taekwoon wasn’t tired of fighting yet. He’d spent so long fighting. 

It would take time. Again. For Taekwoon to believe him, to trust him. Hakyeon would show him, would guide him and protect him, from the world, from himself, his demons. He wanted Taekwoon healed, wanted Taekwoon strong, wanted Taekwoon— _wanted Taekwoon_.

Soft as silk, Hakyeon whispered, “You’re my child. You’re my blood. I, at least, know what that signifies, the bond and burden of it. And I will carry it. And I will carry you, until a time you choose death— or simply choose to leave.” Taekwoon’s eyes followed him as Hakyeon stood, stepping away. “I’ll leave you to sleep, newborns always need a good deal of rest. The transformation takes a toll.”

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon called out when Hakyeon was at the door. Hakyeon turned back, saw Taekwoon half out of his bed, one leg over the edge, the other tangled in the blankets. “You— I can leave?”

The thought hurt, and Hakyeon knew he didn’t do a good job of hiding that fact. He was too tired to be guarded, and he could feel his face soften. “You’re not a hostage, kitten,” he murmured. “I would prefer you to stay, especially for these first few months, which are— always the most difficult, for a new vampire. But I will not hold you here against your will.” 

Taekwoon was breathing again, fast, Hakyeon could see his chest rising and falling. His face was a storm of anger and fear and awful hope.

“Sleep, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said softly. He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. sorry i just missed the weekend in posting this =n= i could've waited until next weekend to post instead bUT I'M IMPATIENT.   
>  2\. i tried (in vain) to reply to all the comments last chapter. i'm sorry if i didn't get to you. I might continue replying to them because quite a lot were really ? poignant and made me think a lot. i appreciate all the feedback very much, and i'm glad no one was mad at me for the events that unfolded orz;;; thank you all ❤


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel dead inside

Jaehwan couldn’t sleep. The winter sunlight bore down, trapping him underground. It wasn’t an unusual circumstance, him burrowed in his basement and unable to give himself over to sleep. It was made remarkable simply by virtue of how very exhausted he was, and his general penchant for sleeping more hours a day than the average cat.

He cast his eyes up, trying to throw his senses out but of course finding himself held in by the wards of his room. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let his head fall forward, drooping. The bed beneath him felt lumpier the longer he sat there. His blanket covered his legs, pooled in his lap, keeping away some of the outside chill.

There were just too many thoughts, but they were all fluttery, and flickering by him too fast, he couldn’t focus on any of them. It left him feeling like he was teetering on an edge, waiting to fall, waiting, waiting, and it wasn’t coming. 

Taekwoon was dead. And Jaehwan had— had absorbed it, at the least, and begun to try and piece how he would live, in a world without his best friend. 

And then Taekwoon was alive, but wholly different; everything would be different. But— would it be different— would it simply be changed? He did not know, not yet, he would have to wait, wait, wait—

His heart was fluttering too. Beating too fast, too lightly; he felt breathless. He remembered what Sanghyuk had called him. _Hummingbird_. They were brothers now. Taekwoon and Sanghyuk. By blood if nothing else.

Jaehwan couldn’t think, he couldn’t follow his thoughts to any conclusions, was thinking in lights and images and emotions, not words. 

Taekwoon was dead. Taekwoon was alive. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing would be the same ever again. 

Jaehwan was so pale, and so cold; if he wasn’t so drained, surely some items in the basement would be quivering with how keyed up he was. But his energy was still on a low hum, barely there, and he was so tired, he wondered how his body was even still going, chugging away like a battered machine.

Taekwoon would outlive him after all. And then some. 

Jaehwan loved him so much. The thought of Taekwoon alone— or rather, Taekwoon without them, now, when he was surely so frightened, so lost— it wasn’t fair. Taekwoon had always been there for them. They needed to get him back. Soon. As soon as possible. He could stay here during the day, with Jaehwan, the both of them trapped in darkness. It could work. They could make it work.

He shivered as the cold night air crept over his skin, raising goosebumps on his flesh, and he sunk back down into the bed and pulled the covers up, over his chest, his shoulders, his head, until he was cocooned in them. The vampires would be sleeping now. The thought brought a small level of comfort.

Jaehwan splayed his hand out next to himself, over the cool sheets. His magic was there, the faintest of tingles playing over his skin. He thought of Sanghyuk’s hands on his wrists, of the burns, of how fast he had healed. Jaehwan would never have to worry about accidentally harming Taekwoon again, scarring him again. That, too, brought some small comfort.

Yes, they could make this work.

——

It felt like he’d barely drifted off before Hongbin was forced into wakefulness once more by an insistent pounding. He thought it might be construction next door. He cracked an eye open, and saw it was eleven in the morning— a perfectly serviceable time for construction for normal people who didn’t have to deal with vampire fuckery on a regular basis. 

Hongbin wasn’t going to think about that now. If he started, he’d never get back to sleep. Instead, he grabbed a pillow, intent on burying his head beneath it to muffle the noise. Before he could though, he heard voices, close voices, _in the house_ voices. 

He sat up, listening. There were people in the house, and it put him on immediate alert, that sick swooping feeling crashing over him. The fact that it was broad daylight out was the only thing that kept him from simply screaming— screaming for who or what, he wasn’t sure. Help, help, but they had to be careful who they asked for help. 

He swung his legs off the side of the bed, feeling vulnerable in his sleepwear, his bare feet, but not wanting to take the time to change. The only weapon he grabbed was his phone, poised to call the police if need be. 

No one was in the hall when he poked his head out of his room, but he could see shadows moving in the brightness of the living room. Out here, it was easier to discern the separate sounds of a drill, a hammer, men talking. Burglars would theoretically be making less noise. 

Hongbin walked through the hall and into the living room, squinting in the sudden brightness. Their tweaked front door was wide open, and the tarp he’d taped over the broken window was gone, which left ample space for cheery sunlight and the winter chill to come in through. Hongbin shivered, toes curling into the carpet beneath his feet, hands coming up to hug himself.

There were a lot of men, in long-sleeved casual shirts and jeans, toolbelts thick and heavy at their waists. Two stood in the living room, backs facing away from Hongbin as they appeared to survey the gaping space of the broken window. Beyond them, outside, there were many more people, scurrying with purpose, hammering away. 

“Uhm,” Hongbin said, one eye still squinted shut. The men in the living room turned to look at him, one with an impressive mustache and smile lines around his eyes, the other much younger. They both had the same logo on their shirts. “You’re in my house.”

It had sounded less authoritative and more like a question, but Hongbin was simply baffled. This felt like a weird dream, but he was so groggy and _cold_ , full of discomfort, that he must be awake. 

“Hello,” the older man said, and the younger excused himself and went outside. Hongbin stared after him for a moment, then looked back at the man with the mustache, who had a definite air of authority. “We’re with Titan Construction, we were called in to repair the damages on this house. I’m sorry if you weren’t informed ahead of time.”

Hongbin noted that the man did not make any move to shake his hand, and though he was polite, he seemed almost— dismissive.

“I— this is my house,” Hongbin said, more firmly, as his consciousness settled more solidly back into his body, recovering from his tiredness and the surprise. Perhaps one of the neighbors, or maybe the city, had called this in— the roof had been visibly sagging some— but they couldn’t legally just—- just begin without the homeowner’s consent, surely. “I don’t— I didn’t call you, I can’t afford this, I think there’s been a mistake—”

“No, sir, no mistake,” the man said. He had a quality to him that Hongbin would associate with the type of father that would be polishing a shot gun when his daughter brought home a date. Maybe it was the mustache. Maybe it was the way he was clearly used to being obeyed, and was unashamed and unflinching. “All expenses have been taken care of.”

Hongbin blinked. “By who?” he asked, already suspicious, already thinking—

“By the person who called us in,” the man said firmly, and that was that, apparently.

 _Hakyeon_ , Hongbin thought, anger surging up. His eyes flickered to the porch, the men scampering outside. His hand curled more tightly around his fixed phone, his pretty, pristine new screen. _Fucking Wonshik_.

“I would like you all to leave, please,” Hongbin said carefully, slowly, gritting it out so he would not scream. He wasn’t a kept human, he wasn’t anyone’s pet. And he wasn’t going to pay for this, in whatever way the vampires were planning for him to. He wasn’t going to owe them shit. It was bad enough they had Taekwoon in a blood bond, they weren’t going to have them as an extension too.

The man just stared at him, a bushy eyebrow raised quizzically. 

Hongbin gestured around. “I appreciate that you all came out and— started to help,” he said, feeling his smile might break his face, “but I did not approve this, and I will be speaking to your employers as soon as I next can about it.” Tonight. He was going to kill whichever one came tonight. 

Mustache man scratched at his cheek absently. “Well, again, I’m sorry you weren’t informed ahead of time, but I’m afraid we’ll have to be getting along with the repairs regardless,” he said, and now he _was_ dismissive. Hongbin opened his mouth to protest— how could they simply ignore him, he lived here— but a large truck pulled up outside the house, and in the bed of it Hongbin could see the frame of a new window, no doubt sized to match their broken one perfectly. Mustache man noted it too, and he added in a throwaway tone, “You should go back to bed, sir. I know the noise is a bit much, and I’m sorry for that.”

He may as well have added, _And don’t you worry your pretty little head, the vampires have taken care of everything_ , to the end of it, for how fucking patronizing it was. Hongbin’s mouth was hanging open in disbelief. The man excused himself curtly and then left Hongbin in the middle of the room. He watched as the man and several others went to the truck to unload the new window. 

Hongbin knew he looked like a gaping fish, but he was so indignant, so wrong-footed, so fucking pissed off, he couldn’t even process it. They couldn’t just edge him out of it like this— just— just go over his head—

Except, obviously, they could. They could and they had. Money gave people power, like that. And vampires had power anyway.

Hongbin could call the police. But the vampires knew he wouldn’t. So did these workers. Too much to explain. How had the house been damaged, and then they’d need to come in— and Jaehwan in the basement— no, he couldn’t call the police.

And there was no point trying to shut the workers out, not when the door was tweaked and wouldn’t lock and they could just climb in through the broken window besides. Humans didn’t need invitations.

Hongbin began to laugh, under his breath, hysterical, at the ridiculousness of it. There was nothing he could do— stand here and make an ass of himself trying to be a nuisance, shrieking like a banshee, but there was no point. 

They were coming back across the lawn, window and frame held carefully by four men, and Hongbin retreated back to his room, like he’d been told, like a good little bitch.

There would be no sleeping, not with the noise, not with the anger, but Hongbin got back into bed anyway, because it was warm if nothing else. He wondered if this was going to be their lives now, vampire in-laws lording over them, forcing them to heel—

No. Hongbin was not going to be owned. Hongbin was not going to let them use Taekwoon to twist their arms, make them cave into submission. Make them into pets. This couldn’t be allowed to go on. But what could they do, what threats did they have— the vampires had Taekwoon. They could, feasibly, hold him forever, if they didn’t acquiesce to— everything. Everything they wanted. 

The moment the thought came, Hongbin felt cold all over. They _could_ hold Taekwoon. Forever. It would kill him. Not his body, maybe, newly immortal as he was— but his soul. If there was even anything left of it at this point.

Hongbin didn’t believe Sanghyuk for a moment. _Brothers_ , he’d said. It was all just a means to an end. Hakyeon wanted Taekwoon. Sanghyuk wanted Jaehwan. Wonshik— who fucking knew. None of them could be trusted. They’d been foolish to think, even for a second, that maybe they were on their side. The moment they’d showed weakness the wolves had begun to move in.

Hongbin put his phone back on his nightstand, glaring at it until the hammering started back up. Fear clogged his throat, squeezed his heart. No. No he would— he’d try. He’d kick and scream and fight, for himself, for Jaehwan, for Taekwoon. It was all they could do.

He grit his teeth at the light streaming in through the blinds. Nightfall was going to mark a battle. 

——

Taekwoon woke in a room that was not yet familiar, in a body that was still equally as foreign. Still vampire. The nightmare, it seemed, would not cease. 

He felt better, stronger, than he had when he’d woken the previous night. Though anything would be better than waking up in frigid dampness, held down by heavy layers of earth, confused and frightened. There was still a lethargicness to his limbs that he could only liken to recovering from an illness, his joints feeling tender. 

The room was dark, Taekwoon knew it was, but he could see everything, every corner and detail. Had he not had some memories of the previous night, he might have thought this was a whole new dream, because the room he was in was comfortable, handsomely furnished in gentle blue and and green tones. It did not speak of being a vampire lair, underground. But he vaguely remembered being here last night, led by the sound of a pounding heart. Somehow, he should have known Hakyeon would not sleep in a coffin but on plush mattresses with expensive sheets.

Taekwoon sat up, slowly, taking stock of things. That fuzziness was there in his mind, still, that Taekwoon recognized now as hunger. It wasn’t a sensation he’d known before, a niggling, incessant pull at the back of his mind, that threatened to muffle his other thoughts, the aspects that made him _himself_. Currently it was definitely very— present. He was still in control, could still think around it, but it was with conscious effort. 

It all felt like so much. Too much. He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as his eyes burned. Vampires could cry, apparently, but Taekwoon did not want to. Nothing could come from tears. They would not restart his heart. 

He grit his teeth, shoving the stupidly soft blankets off himself and swinging his legs out of bed so he could stand. The floor was bright white carpet, and Taekwoon once again marvelled at how this room looked like a page out of a magazine for decor rather than a vampire’s dwelling. He’d never been in a place so prettily kept. The thought that the dead lived better than so many of the living was somewhat depressing.

His door was closed, but he thought he could hear very faint sounds from beyond it, like others were up and about. He looked down at himself, at his new body, so like his old one and yet different in insidious, untrackable ways. Vaguely, he remembered Hakyeon impartially rinsing the grave dirt off him, dressing him in these sweatpants that were both too tight and too short. The coldness of the air was like the darkness; he could feel it on his bare chest, he knew it was cold, but it did not register as unpleasant. It simply was. 

Taekwoon held his hand up to examine it. Pale, paler than even before, and textured differently in that way vampire skin was, like an overly edited advertisement. Just a little too smooth. His eyes flickered over the scar on his arm, which was still, somewhat surprisingly, present. It had paled as well, maybe was a little less obvious, but it was still distinctly Jaehwan’s handprint, wrapping around his forearm.

His hand clenched into a fist, and he lowered it back to his side. He wondered if they knew. He wondered if they hated him.

There was a dark blue robe hanging from what seemed to be a closet door, and Taekwoon pulled it on, because going out topless just felt shameful, somehow. The robe was definitely not Hakyeon’s, it was too big for Taekwoon, gaping at the front and sleeves swallowing his fingertips. But he was partially covered, and for now it would do.

Tentatively, surprised by his own ability at stealth, he opened the door, peeking out. Like the previous night, the lights felt so bright, too bright, though surely they would be dim to human eyes. It was merely a long hallway, no one lurking where he could see, so he opened the door the rest of the way, cautiously stepping out. It was hardwood flooring out here, stained almost black, offset by the whiteness of the walls. Along one wall were doors, not unlike the one he had just stepped through, but on the other there were three sets of double doors with darkened windows, like they led out onto a large balcony. It was most off putting, because there was the definite sense of being underground. Taekwoon laid his hand on one of the knobs, to see if the door would lead him outside, but it didn’t move. Not like it was locked, but rather like it was— fake. 

With a blunt fingernail he tapped on one of the small windowpanes of the door. It was glass. He pressed his face nearer to it, squinting out, and saw nothing. They were simply for decoration, then, to give the illusion of being a proper home, above ground. 

Taekwoon wondered if this was a common vampire practice, or if Hakyeon was simply an oddity. 

He looked left, where there were more doors, and then right, where the hallway opened up into a larger room. Faintly, he could hear movement, but no heartbeats, no breathing. Taekwoon went right, eyes widening when he reached the end of the hall.

The ceiling swooped up and up, the house opening into a large living area, a common area. To Taekwoon’s right were windows, windows with darkened panes, like the doors in the hall. They were high and grand, and _pointless_. To his left, hugging the wall, was a staircase that led up onto a landing, as if the house had a second story. But all Taekwoon could see up there was a heavy, wide door— he felt, rather than distinctly remembered, that it led out of the house, into tunnels— he’d been taken through trees and ferns into tunnels—

“Taekwoon,” a voice called, and Taekwoon inhaled, clawing himself back into his body as the fog threatened to crowd him out. 

Taekwoon stepped forward, his feet not making any sound over the hardwood floor. Like an oasis amidst the wide expanse of dark wood underneath them, there was a sizeable white rug, and on it sat a pair of handsome leather couches, and upon one of them, sat Hakyeon. 

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said again, motioning him nearer. Taekwoon came two steps closer, and then stopped. Hakyeon was in jeans and a beige sweater, his bare feet buried into the plushness of the rug. In his right hand was a mangled toothbrush, and in his lap was Taekwoon’s leather hunting jacket. “Kitten, are you lucid?”

Taekwoon stared at the jacket, swallowing thickly. “That’s mine,” he said.

Hakyeon looked at him carefully, clearly assessing. “It is,” he said, grasping the jacket by the collar and holding it up for Taekwoon’s examination. “The rest of your clothes I put into the wash, but this I thought would be better taken care of by hand. The lining was fairly spared, actually, of any dirt, and the mud wiped off easily from the outside. I was just— getting the rest out of the seams” He placed the jacket on the coffee table with a sigh, plunking the toothbrush bristles-first into a mug of unappealing brownish water.

The leather of the jacket reflected the light pleasantly, cleaner than it had ever been before. Taekwoon had stolen it out of his father’s closet years ago. It seemed— odd, somehow, to have it now, for it to be sitting there, this piece of a life that he no longer had. Taekwoon held the edges of the robe tightly, sinking back into it like a turtle pulling into a shell, searching for comfort. 

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said softly, gently. “How are you feeling?”

Taekwoon shook his head, once, a sharp, jerky motion. That was an impossible question. There was no point trying to pick through his thoughts, not when they would, no doubt, be the same as they’d been last night. _I want to go home, I want my life back, I want_ —

“You have a lot of windows,” Taekwoon said, voice raspy. He sniffled, reigning his emotions back in, eyes casting around and settling on the obvious. “Aren’t we underground? Why do you have windows?”

It was the barest whisper of sound, Hakyeon moving, but then he was there, at Taekwoon’s side. He smelled— fresh, like soap, and sweet, like vampire. It was hard to pinpoint, exactly, but there was a sensation, a tug, between them. Taekwoon could _feel_ him, like a limb that had gone numb in sleep. Just a hint, barely there, a shadow at the edge of his being.

 _I’m your maker now_ , Hakyeon had said, and Taekwoon found himself grinding his teeth.

Hakyeon peered at the windows with Taekwoon, like two tourists in an unknown place. “I just think they make it feel more open,” he said, slow, like he wasn’t sure if he should go along with Taekwoon or not. He stepped over to a lightswitch on the wall, flicking it on and then spinning the dimness dial all the way up. Light came through the windows, bright, warm, like sunlight on a sweltering day. To Taekwoon’s vampire eyes, the illusion was a good one.

Hakyeon looked very pretty, in bright lighting. There were no flaws to mar his lovely face, and the warm tones of his skin seemed to glow with it. He looked almost living.

Taekwoon looked away, over his shoulder. For all intents and purposes, this really did look like a house. Bookshelves were inlaid into a far wall, crammed with books of every size and color, and underneath the loft there was a wide archway that led to a crisp kitchen. The whole thing looked a bit too clean, a bit too untouched, but it seemed to suit Hakyeon. Taekwoon just never really had given any thought to where he must spend his days. Underground. That simply drudged up thoughts of sewer systems, dank tunnels with algae at best. But even as little as he knew Hakyeon, he knew that wouldn’t do.

It all seemed ridiculous. Vampires living in homes with tasteful decor and fake windows. It was very— human. Taekwoon wasn’t sure he liked it.

“I’ll have to go, soon,” Hakyeon said, and Taekwoon whipped around to look at him. Hakyeon turned the dial, and the lighting on the windows dimmed to a faint, orange glow before he fully switched them off.

“You’re leaving me alone?” Taekwoon asked, not liking the fear that curled through him at the thought. It was just— the fog was moving in, steadily, like a pier overcome once the sun left the sky. It seeped under docks and above hulls, reaching tendrils out through trees and swallowing homes. He could remember in faded pieces the things that had occurred, while he was lost to it, but he hadn’t had any control. He could have killed that boy. He would have killed that boy. 

He hated this, so strongly it shook his being. But his anger and grief wouldn’t change anything any more than his tears. 

Hakyeon’s gaze was soft, and Taekwoon wished he could find comfort in it. “No, of course not,” Hakyeon murmured. “Sanghyuk will watch you while I am away.” Taekwoon absorbed that, wondering why Sanghyuk, wondering where Wonshik was. “Your lucidity is tenuous at best, and I— I’m not going to let you hurt anyone, Taekwoon. I promise.”

What was a promise from a vampire worth, Taekwoon thought. Very little. He eyed Hakyeon, whose hands were held together, his spine straight, eyes liquid and dark and beautiful. Centuries old, manipulative and cunning. But what good would lying do him now. He had Taekwoon, had Taekwoon very well, if this wretched tug between them was any indication. It was almost like a gravitational pull, Hakyeon a solar system’s sun and Taekwoon caught in orbit. Pulling on a facade now would be futile, for Taekwoon was as eternal as he was, and eventually, the mask would disintegrate. 

Taekwoon remembered the mirror, remembered what they looked like together, bodies entwined, and he remembered Hakyeon’s blood in his mouth, tearing into him over and over, as Hakyeon trembled softly with pain.

“I want to believe you,” Taekwoon said thickly. “But I don’t think I can.”

Hakyeon stepped forward, until he was in front of Taekwoon, his hands coming up as if to cup his face but stopping short. “Taekwoon,” Hakyeon whispered, “I know, I know. This is— it’s hard, even for those who turn willingly. But you don’t need to rush, this will take time, Taekwoon, to heal from.”

Time. Eternity. That was one thing humans always seemed to lack, everything was so urgent, so fragile. Taekwoon didn’t know what to do with time. He wasn’t sure he knew what to do with himself. He’d been running for so long. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Taekwoon admitted, feeling the fog press upon him, claustrophobic, and all he wanted was to escape it, to claw out of himself, to find peace.

Hakyeon’s hands dropped. “I should have left you dead,” he whispered, and it was awful, scraped out of him. 

“Don’t—” Taekwoon began, almost harsh. He glared down at Hakyeon, who had the gall to look small and lovely and tempting. “You should have, but you didn’t. You didn’t. You brought me back as _this_ , and you don’t get to regret it. You don’t deserve to.”

“I don’t regret it,” Hakyeon shot back, equally as harsh. “Maybe I’m a bastard for it, but I don’t regret it. I’d do it again. I shouldn’t, but I would.”

Taekwoon reared away, stalking several paces to the wall with the books before whirling back around. “Then you— you don’t get to fucking second guess it, you don’t get to sit there and look sad over this like you’re the fucking victim.”

Hakyeon was getting angry, and it brought Taekwoon a perverse sense of satisfaction. His patience the previous night— really, his patience as long as Taekwoon had known him— was a hard thing to batter against. Punching a wall hurt, but the wall would have something to show for it. Railing at Hakyeon had always felt more like striking a mattress. It just bounced Taekwoon off with nothing to show for it. 

Perhaps last night Hakyeon had simply been tired. He was not tired now.

“Am I not allowed to feel some sense of guilt?” Hakyeon asked, voice rising. “I stand by my choice but that does not mean I enjoy causing you pain.”

“You knew this would be hell for me,” Taekwoon fairly shouted back. “Maybe you were trying to save me— maybe you were trying to own me. But _you_ made this choice and damned the consequences. So no, you don’t get to feel guilty.”

Hakyeon’s hands were fisted down at his sides, his eyebrows twisted into a scowl. He was like a small storm in the room, his presence thick and overwhelming. Taekwoon expected him to scream, but when he spoke, his voice was back to a moderate, even volume, “I said I would take your anger, your hatred.” Hakyeon stared him down, the scowl smoothing out to nothing but a hitch, though his hands remained fisted. “And I will. But I am not going to— to— roll over and play the part of the monster that you want me to be so you can scapegoat me for all your miseries. If you’re going to hate me, Taekwoon, then I’m going to make you hate me for what I actually am.”

Perhaps that would sound ominous to another, but Taekwoon understood what Hakyeon meant. It was the same deal as before. When Taekwoon was a hunter, and he hated Hakyeon for the creature he thought he was.

Taekwoon scowled at the bookshelf, packed with new and older books, spines cracked on some and smooth on others. “Selfish,” Taekwoon hissed out, anger burning so warmly in his veins he thought he should catch alight. Was this how Jaehwan felt when the magic in him swelled and overflowed?

“I am,” Hakyeon said, stomping over to where Taekwoon stood and pressing their faces near. “I am selfish, I know I am, but damn you I am allowed to feel guilty. Contrary to what you’ve always seemed to think, I do feel the full range of human emotions.”

“You’re not human,” Taekwoon spat, fighting not to flinch, not to back down. He had an strange instinct in him, that he should heel to Hakyeon.

Hakyeon’s eyes searched over his face, mouth twisting. “Neither are you,” Hakyeon whispered. Taekwoon felt himself stop, like the moment had frozen. Hakyeon shrank back, shoulders rounding. “I— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Taekwoon shook his head, but his throat was tight, and words evaded him. It was true, Taekwoon wasn’t human anymore. There would be millions of people who condemned him for it on principal, people who didn’t understand. But fuck, he didn’t— he didn’t really feel that different at all.

All this time, Taekwoon hadn’t been being fair.

He swallowed thickly, eyes stinging so badly. “You’re still not allowed to feel guilty,” he muttered, blinking swiftly but he could feel a tear escape anyway, trickling slowly down his cheek. “You have to help me.”

The tears were thick, and he couldn’t see; he felt tingly and numb. Hakyeon didn’t touch him, spoke so softly, so earnestly. “I will, I told you I will, I promised.”

What was a promise from a vampire worth.

“Then you can’t give up,” Taekwoon said. He scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. “Even if I do.”

“I’m not going to let you give up,” Hakyeon said, and as Taekwoon lowered his hands he could see Hakyeon looked wretched. There was deep crimson redness in his peripheral. His own hands were bloody. He’d never believed it, when he’d heard vampires cry blood. Blood. “You will hate me for it, maybe, but I’m going to get you through this.”

There was a buzzing in Taekwoon’s ears. He looked beyond Hakyeon, at the jacket, his jacket, sitting clean and shining on the table. What was a promise from a vampire worth.

“I can’t hate you,” Taekwoon said in despair, and let the fog consume him.

——

The first thing Wonshik noticed about the hunter house was that the porch’s roof was no longer sagging. A fresh beam with pristine paint was sturdily placed where the old one had been blown out. It was a pleasant thing to note.

The second thing was Hongbin. He was hard to ignore, when he was shooting Fae Sprae at Wonshik’s face. 

The third thing, as Wonshik flickered around the side of the house to the backyard, was that the broken window had also been replaced. 

Once Wonshik was on the back porch he wiped at his cheek with his sleeve. Hongbin had missed his eyes but snagged his ear, and the Sprae was stinging sharply. The back door opened and Wonsik moved, quickly, flickering down the stairs, but it was Jaehwan there, not Hongbin, backlit by the kitchen’s glaring lights. His hair gleamed silver, brighter than Wonshik’s dyed grey. He really did look like some kind of winter spirit, though Sanghyuk’s descriptions had definitely glazed over his weak pallor, and lavender smudges under his eyes.

“Sorry,” Jaehwan called out to Wonshik, wearing a wince. Wonshik eyed him wearily. Hongbin may have had Fae Sprae, but Jaehwan was armed with magic, which was worse. If they were angry, he didn’t want to get near either of them. “Hongbin’s—”

What Hongbin was, was there, suddenly, behind Jaehwan in the door and throwing his arm out past Jaehwan and spraying at Wonshik with the aerosol can again. The mist of Sprae couldn’t quite reach Wonshik where he was, it fizzled out and got misdirected by the gentle breeze.

Jaehwan grabbed at Hongbin’s forearm, forcibly making him lower his hand, and the two of them scuffled, Jaehwan hissing out, “Don’t—”

“I hate them, I’m sick of this,” Hongbin snarled in reply, trying to get his arm out of Jaehwan’s grip, but Jaehwan, for all that he looked like a delicate flower stem, apparently had some wiry strength left. 

Wonshik stared up at them, tussling like children, and wondered what had changed. Sanghyuk had said— they’d been surprised, for sure, but not angry about what had happened. More angry that they hadn’t been informed faster, and less that it had happened at all. 

Perhaps they’d been in shock. Hongbin, like Taekwoon, seemed to find comfort in anger. Wonshik thought of the last time he’d seen them, Hongbin had been little more than an empty doll, gutted and cracked. He was back to himself, it seemed, burning bright as a wildfire. 

The Fae Sprae was knocked from Hongbin’s hand, and it rolled jauntily off the porch, clunking down the stairs and within Wonshik’s reach. He picked it up and threw it to the way back of the yard, just to be safe.

Jaehwan sagged against the door frame, breathing heavily, and Hongbin glared at him, eyes shining with what might have been angry tears. “Fuck you too,” Hongbin said harshly. 

“Hongbin,” Wonshik said softly, and Hongbin turned to look at him, poison in his gaze. “What—”

“I hate you,” Hongbin said again, teeth flashing in the low light. “You may have got us on leashes but I’ll be _damned_ if I’m going to just roll over for you.” 

Jaehwan grabbed at Hongbin’s sleeve, leaned in and murmured, “Taekwoon,” before Hongbin wrenched himself away, expression wretched. Hongbin stepped back, leaving the doorway in favor of stomping deeper into the house. Jaehwan’s head lolled back against the doorframe, exhaustion etched into every line of his body.

Tentatively, Wonshik climbed back onto the porch, so he was near enough Jaehwan to speak softly. “What happened?” he asked, and Jaehwan’s head tipped so he could eye Wonshik critically.

“You happened,” Jaehwan murmured. Wonshik blinked, and didn’t react to the slight way Jaehwan shivered under his gaze. “Was it you who sent in the order for the repairs?”

Wonshik cocked his head. “Yes,” he said slowly, his voice deep in the quiet of the night. “Sanghyuk suggested it, and I agreed.”

Jaehwan looked away, shifting himself so he was leaning against the inside wall, rather than the doorframe itself. It was a deliberate move, to get all his body parts where Wonshik couldn’t reach. “You didn’t ask us,” he said softly.

“Did you not want to house to be fixed?” Wonsik asked. He had deep wells of patience, but the Sprae was still stinging at the parts of his ear he couldn’t quite swab at, and he wasn’t sure he understood this. 

Jaehwan was shaking his head. “It wasn’t your decision to make,” he sighed out. “This isn’t your house. We don’t belong to you.”

Honesty, perhaps, was the best policy. “I don’t understand, fully, why you’re upset,” Wonshik said. There was an alarming crash from the living room, and Wonshik’s gaze snapped up to see Hongbin stomping back into the room. He had another can of Sprae, and Wonshik tensed to flee.

“You think—” Hongbin began, holding the can by the base and jabbing it in Wonshik’s direction, “that by taking Taekwoon—”

Jaehwan held his hand up, palm facing toward Hongbin as if to block anything Hongbin might send flying at them. “Bin—”

“—everything is just going to fall right into line for you,” Hongbin continued, dodging around Jaehwan’s hand. “Humans are stupid and easy and nothing about us matters so long as you have what you want—”

Hongbin’s hand came up, despite Jaehwan grabbing at his sleeve, his blunt nails catching. The can was close to Wonshik, too close, definitely out of the house’s wards— he could be the better person here, he could flit away, easily, let Hongbin have his meltdown. But Wonshik’s well of patience was pretty much dry. 

Wonshik grabbed Hongbin’s wrist, and in a flash he had yanked Hongbin fully out of the house, twisting his wrist first so he was forced to drop the can of Sprae with a cry of pain, then secondly twisting his arm so it was pinned behind Hongbin’s back at an awkward angle, his front pressed to Wonshik’s tightly. Quickly, Wonshik wrapped his other arm around, grabbing at the back of Hongbin’s head, taking fistfuls of hair so Hongbin couldn’t smash his forehead into Wonshik’s face. One broken nose was enough for the year.

The position left one of Hongbin’s hands free, and with it he clawed at Wonshik’s back, but there wasn’t much else he could do, with his body held snugly against Wonshik’s.

“Stop,” Wonshik murmured, his breath fanning over Hongbin’s angry, beautiful face. Movement, at the corner of his eyes, and Wonshik continued in his low voice, “I wouldn’t, Jaehwan. You’re too weak, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Jaehwan’s hands lowered back down to his sides, and Wonshik could smell the faint ozone scent of magic. He looked away from Hongbin to meet Jaehwan’s eyes. “I’m not going to hurt him,” he said, though Jaehwan looked unconvinced.

“Again,” Hongbin said, and it was almost a pant. There was a flush on his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose. Wonshik looked down at him quizzically. “You’re not going to hurt me again.”

They were pressed so close Wonshik could feel the thrum of Hongbin’s pounding heart, feel his ribcage struggling to expand in Wonshik’s arms. “Again,” he agreed softly, careful to keep his fangs in check. “I did apologize for that though.”

Hongbin just snarled in reply. _I say a lot of things, no one ever listens_ , Wonshik remembered. 

“Hongbin,” Wonshik murmured, and his soft tone just made Hongbin squirm, seemingly doing nothing to placate him, “You said—”

“Does it matter?” Hongbin spat, twisting as best he could. Wonshik could _feel_ his shoulder joint straining, and his grip on Hongbin’s hair must have been painful, but still Hongbin struggled.

Wonshik gave him a little shake. “It does,” he said, voice gravelly for how low it was. He wished— but he wouldn’t glamour Hongbin. Not even to settle him down. “It does and I want to know what you meant.”

“Fuck off,” Hongbin panted. 

Wonshik stared down at him. Hongbin’s features looked like they’d been sculpted with utmost care and thought, his eyes large and jaw strong, nose straight. He was an artisan masterpiece come to life in form. But under it he was feral, as vicious as a fox caught in a trap. 

“I’m not your enemy, Hongbin,” Wonshik rumbled, watching as Hongbin’s face twisted. Wonshik, foolishly, _stupidly_ , wanted to draw Hongbin nearer, wanted to taste his spitting fire. He wouldn’t do it. Hongbin wasn’t meant for kisses, maybe wasn’t even meant for gentleness. But Wonshik would not handle him roughly. Firmly, yes, but not roughly. No matter how much Hongbin asked him for it. 

“You think we’re nothing,” Hongbin accused, voice going high. “You have Taekwoon, so you have us. Just— bring in men to stomp around our home, treat me like I’m vampire property—”

Wonshik felt his brow hitching. He— he had not thought either of the humans would be angry over this. “The house needed fixing,” he said simply, because it had. 

“ _I’m not yours_ ,” Hongbin cried. “You had no right to speak for me. You had no right to speak over me.”

Wonshik blinked. He had not done that, not to his own eyes. “That— that isn’t what I mean to do,” he said, carefully. Confusion drew his brows together further. “You had me fix your phone—”

Jaehwan’s voice was small and curious, almost childlike, as he piped up. “He fixed your phone?” 

Hongbin looked upset that Wonshik had mentioned that, not even sparing Jaehwan a glance. “It isn’t the same,” Hongbin said. Their faces were so close. Wonshik could count his eyelashes. “I told you to do that because you broke it and I didn’t think you’d listen—”

“I didn’t break it,” Wonshik reminded him softly, but Hongbin went on as if he hadn’t spoken.

“But I didn’t ask for this— I didn’t want it. Not from you.” The words were being spat out so quickly, Hongbin was almost tripping over himself as he fought to get them out. "I’m not yours and I don’t want you to— to— come acting like you’ve done us a favor, when I didn’t even _want it_ ," Hongbin said, voice cracking, high, and Wonshik's eyes widened. Hongbin was squirming again in earnest, his eyes sparkling with tears. "I’m not yours, I’m not yours, I don’t owe you and—"

"Hongbin," Wonshik said, and maybe there was a little glamour in the word, but Wonshik didn't know what to _do_.

Hongbin's chest was heaving, and his heart felt likely to pound right out of his chest. "Let me go," he gasped, like he couldn't breathe.

Wonshik's arms loosened, just a bit, just to give Hongbin room, but Hongbin’s breathing stayed shallow, and the tears spilled out from his large, dark eyes. Jaehwan stepped forward jerkily, hands sort of fluttering, like he wanted to touch Hongbin, and wasn’t sure he should. Hongbin twisted, turning his face away from them both, gasping for air.

Wonshik, finally, realized Hongbin was frightened. It should have been obvious from the start. A cornered animal would snarl and bite, but only out of fear. 

Taekwoon may not be gone, but he was different, he was vampire, and in ways, he _was_ theirs now. And of course that would be awful, this idea that someone Hongbin loved so dearly could be taken from him, as surely as death could have taken him. 

And more, that Taekwoon could be used as a bartering chip, could — as Hongbin had said — put them on leashes.

There was nothing Wonshik could say. The threat of it was there, though it repulsed Wonshik. Nothing he said could erase the fact that if they chose, yes, they could use Taekwoon as a hostage. They could take this house, they could take Jaehwan, they could take Hongbin. There was nothing to stop them.

Wonshik let Hongbin go.

——

It wasn’t easy, leaving Taekwoon behind. Truth be told it hadn’t been easy the previous night either, but tonight, Hakyeon felt they were both especially raw. Maybe that was why he needed to though, because Hakyeon had promised himself he would not touch Taekwoon, would not take him in his arms, would not push his soft hair off his face, would not taste the crimson tears on his cheeks. He could not, he would not, take advantage like that. And then on the flip side, when Taekwoon was lucid enough to form sentences, Hakyeon also kind of wanted to throttle him. He could not do that either. Sanghyuk was far enough removed from the situation, but loved Hakyeon and had enough of a sense of honor, that Hakyeon knew Taekwoon would be well taken care of in his hands. 

It was still hard.

The feeder house loomed, windows lit up like fires burned beyond. This was not going to be pleasant. It wasn’t pleasant yesterday, but at least Kyungsoo wasn’t there. Hakyeon loved his maker, he did, and Kyungsoo loved him too, but Hakyeon had fucked up, and there was no getting around it. 

The front door opened before Hakyeon could touch it, and there Kyungsoo stood, wearing an overlarge sweater and jeans, looking for all the world to be a soft young man.

“Master,” Hakyeon murmured, stepping inside. Jongdae was there, hanging back by the hallway. He looked somber, but not grim. “I was— I’m here to get a feeder for Taekwoon.”

Kyungsoo blinked at him slowly, gazing up and up. He held his hand out wordlessly, and with a small sigh Hakyeon took it, let Kyungsoo tug him to the hallway. As they passed Jongdae, he made a cross sign in Hakyeon’s direction, and Hakyeon resisted the urge to flip him off. 

Kyungsoo took him to the rustic parlour, his hand small and gentle in Hakyeon’s. Hakyeon wouldn't say he was frightened per se, but it was the only word that came close to what he was feeling. Trepidation and anxiety. Kyungsoo let Hakyeon's hand go so he could stride surely into the room and perch on the large leather armchair, deceivingly small. “Close the door, Hakyeon.” 

Hakyeon did so, wondering if he should lock it too, but Kyungsoo did not say anything, so he left it, coming to sit at the edge of the sofa, near enough that he could touch Kyungsoo if he wished. “What happened last night after you left my house?” he asked softly, and Kyungsoo motioned lightly, as if to indicate Hakyeon should be quiet. It had been a fool’s hope to think Kyungsoo would take the bait.

“I think, from what I knew of the situation before, I can piece together well enough what actually happened with that nest,” Kyungsoo said softly, slowly, dangerous for all that it was gentle. “But I want you to tell me anyway.” He leaned on the arm of his recliner, settling like a large feline predator. “It surely has to do with your hunter.”

Where to begin. There was no point lying, and truth be told, Hakyeon did not want to lie. It was what it was. “It wasn’t wholly untrue, what I told the Councilwoman,” Hakyeon said, careful. “They killed Taekwoon, and so I killed them.”

“Taekwoon,” Kyungsoo crooned, and Hakyeon swallowed. “The hunter. I suppose he was out hunting when he got killed?” Hakyeon could only nod, looking away, at the landscape picture on the wall. Kyungsoo sighed, and out of the corner of his eye Hakyeon could see him rub a hand over his face. “Hakyeon.”

“I know,” Hakyeon whispered. It was easier spitting out excuses, reasons, to Wonshik and Sanghyuk and Taekwoon, who were his children and his responsibility. But it was harder, impossible, here, when facing his maker. “I know, Kyungsoo. But I knew then too, what I would be taking on by doing it.”

“And you did it anyway,” Kyungsoo said flatly, and it should have been open-ended, leave some place for Hakyeon to reply, and it didn’t. “You had not claimed him. He wasn’t yours to defend, wasn’t yours to turn. And he was a _hunter_.” He stood, walking to the darkened hearth and staring into it as if it had flames. "I shouldn’t have let it go this far again," Kyungsoo whispered to himself. "The moment I found out you were chasing a hunter— I should have put a stop to it."

Hakyeon resented that, resented the idea that he only cared for Taekwoon because he was damaged. “This has nothing to do with Jungsu,” Hakyeon snapped, and Kyungsoo looked back at him, gaze sharp in warning. Hakyeon wilted under it, sinking back against the sofa cushions. His tone was softer when he spoke again. “It doesn’t.”

Kyungsoo scoffed softly, turning away again. “I suppose, if nothing else, this will help with our little sorcerer problem. So it isn’t an utterly ill decision,” he said slowly, and Hakyeon blinked at the back of his head.

Yes, he’d thought of it idly, in a passing sort of way. That having Taekwoon blood bound to him, under his control, his power, would probably make Jaehwan a bit more— malleable. A lesser vampire would have turned Taekwoon, or Hongbin, just for it. Hakyeon hated the idea that he would be tied to it like that, that he had made Taekwoon just to control Jaehwan. He would never do such a thing, but the benefit was there all the same. Jaehwan loved Taekwoon still, if Sanghyuk was to be believed. And so long as Hakyeon had Taekwoon, he had the ace, so to speak.

But Hakyeon would never do anything to hurt Taekwoon, physically or emotionally, not even to get Jaehwan to heel. 

“I mean, theoretically, yes, these could give us an advantage,” Hakyeon said, “but if push comes to shove I’m not going to threaten my own child to get the sorcerer to obey.”

“Of course you would not harm your own blood,” Kyungsoo said, impatient, hand coming down in a slap on the mantle. “Nor would I ask you to. But the sorcerer does not know that.” Hakyeon bit back the words that came to his tongue, which was that Jaehwan and Hongbin knew far more than they should. They were all too deep into this. “And I am sorry that I am trying to find some sort of positive in all this mess, and that is the only thing I have to cling to. That we may have some moderation of safety on that front, when everything else is fucking crashing down.”

Hakyeon thought that was, maybe, a little dramatic. “Do you think the Councilwoman didn’t actually believed what I said?” he asked, and Kyungsoo shook his head— not in answer, simply in upset.

“She is not the deciding factor— though I wish she had been. Within a courtroom there is so much more room for unpredictability. And you have a record,” Kyungsoo said. His voice was so soft, so disappointed.

Hakyeon could feel himself tense, anxiousness weighing on him. “It is not applicable here,” he said, not fully sure that was true. He didn’t like that Kyungsoo kept bringing this back to before.

“Do you have no shame, no regret? You’re acting like a petulant child,” Kyungsoo said, berating, and Hakyeon felt like a child for true. “You won’t be able to argue with a judge, brush them off, like you’re doing with me.”

The sound of a neck snapping echoed back in Hakyeon’s mind, and then a body falling at Hakyeon’s feet. He remembered all too well. The round courts of their kind, high stone walls, claustrophobic, pressing in, chairs with silver chains. “I’m fully aware of that, do you think I am not?” Hakyeon asked, voice loud in the small space of the room. “Do you not think I have learned my lesson?”

Kyungsoo gestured expansively around them, as if to indicate their current predicament. “I speak as I find, Hakyeon,” he said loudly to match Hakyeon’s rising volume. “Here we are again, me a step behind as I follow my only child into a courtroom.”

Kyungsoo was afraid. He never did do well, in situations where he had little, or no, control. His connections, his political sway, could only go so far. 

Hakyeon swallowed thickly, eyes flickering down. “It isn’t the same,” he whispered, flinching when Kyungsoo’s voice cracked over him like a whip.

“You’re right, it isn’t— this is worse,” Kyungsoo snapped. “I’m not King anymore, and this— this was deliberate, on your part. You are not innocent now, as you were then. If they find out you’ve lied—”

“They aren’t going to,” Hakyeon cried. “You and I are the only ones who know the whole truth—”

“And Taekwoon.” Kyungsoo turned fully, arms crossed. “What if they call on him for the trial, Hakyeon?” he asked, and Hakyeon blinked. “What if they call on him to testify? Will your unwilling hunter child echo your lies or will he tell the truth, that you killed your own over a hunter that was not yours?”

It was not a thought that had occurred to Hakyeon, and it should have. As a vampire, Taekwoon’s voice would of course have more weight. It was possible they’d want to hear what he had to say. “The chances of them calling on a child to speak against a maker is— it’s slim and you know it,” Hakyeon said weakly, and Kyungsoo scoffed derisively. “And— maybe I’m foolish for it, but I don’t think he’d want to see me hurt for this.”

“You’re telling me a hunter you turned without permission wouldn’t seize an opportunity to avenge himself on you?” Kyungsoo asked, disbelieving. His fangs flashed slightly as he spoke, his agitation growing. 

Hakyeon looked down, at Kyungsoo’s feet, cushioned on the tacky bear skin rug. It did sound ridiculous like that. “I trust him,” Hakyeon whispered, and Kyungsoo groaned, throwing his hands up. “What do you want me to say?”

“I would like some reassurance that you’ve still got at least some wits about you,” Kyungsoo said, voice rising before he visibly reeled himself back. Hakyeon was beginning to feel despair creep in, and it probably showed on his face. He hated that this— that he’d made himself a fool in his master’s eyes, and a villain in Wonshik’s, and— Lord only knew what, in Taekwoon’s. He watched as Kyungsoo came to him, sitting beside him on the couch, their thighs touching. “My child,” he murmured, taking Hakyeon’s hand. Hakyeon looked down at their entwined fingers miserably. “Is he loyal to you, does he love you?”

Weirdly, that made Hakyeon laugh, though there was no joy in the sound. “No, at best, he does not despise me,” he said, voice cracking. “Which, given the circumstances, is more than I could have hoped.” Finally he made himself meet Kyungsoo’s large eyes, found them focused and sad. Hakyeon almost wished Kyungsoo had opted to yell at him, or hit him. This pity and disappointment was far worse.

Kyungsoo held his gaze for a long moment, then gusted out a sigh, eyes flickering down as he let Hakyeon’s hand go. “I can’t pretend to understand,” he said simply. “An unwilling child, Hakyeon— it is done very often, it is true, but for someone like you— you have such a close bond with Wonshik and Sanghyuk.”

Hakyeon wanted to say that while Taekwoon breathed, they were getting there. That they would have fallen into one another’s arms, that he could have made Taekwoon love him. But in truth it wasn’t a guarantee. Taekwoon was, at best, unpredictable, strong willed and sharp tongued. Hakyeon’s heart ached.

“I didn’t— I did it because he deserved another chance,” Hakyeon said, ashamed that his voice was wobbly. “I know you can’t understand, but I just couldn’t let him go. Even if it means I have to bear his hatred. He’s worth it, to me. His life. It was worth saving.”

“You are so soft,” Kyungsoo sighed, and Hakyeon’s eyes lowered, bowing his head. It was hard to not hear _foolish_ and _young_ when Kyungsoo said _soft_. He felt Kyungsoo place his hand on his hair, petting softly. "I love you," Kyungsoo murmured, and Hakyeon nodded lightly, so as not to dislodge Kyungsoo's hand. Hakyeon knew this. "I will love him too, I am sure. As I love Wonshik, and Sanghyuk.” He let his hand drop, placing it heavily on Hakyeon's shoulder. “My kind child, what shall I do with you?”

Hakyeon swallowed against the lump in his throat and shook his head. He did not know. 

Kyungsoo crooned softly, running his hand through Hakyeon’s thick hair. “Jongdae tells me that you have promised your new child that— that he shall never kill a human,” he murmured, and Hakyeon could only nod. Kyungsoo sighed again, very heavily. “Oh, Hakyeon.”

“I kept him from killing Yixing,” Hakyeon said softly. It had been an arduous process, and painful. But it was the only solution he could think of. 

Kyungsoo’s hand trailed down, fingertips brushing Hakyeon’s ear and then the side of his neck. “With a sacrifice, yes, you managed it,” he said. “Will you do this every night? We’ve not enough feeders to sustain it— and in a few weeks we shall open, besides. The feeders are not for you.” 

“I was going to tackle that when we got there,” Hakyeon whispered. He’d been thinking of it already in truth. There would always be willing donors, one just had to know who to ask. “I’m hoping after a few days, he will have enough control that he won’t have to feed from me first.” He smiled at Kyungsoo wanly. “So far he has shown— a good deal of promise.”

Kyungsoo’s expression was unreadable. “We should not keep him waiting too long then, I suppose,” he said, and his voice was carefully neutral. He stood, turning to Hakyeon and holding out his hand. “Come, we shall have you feed, and then pick a human for him.”

This was not the end of it. Hakyeon was not a total fool. But he took Kyungsoo’s small hand, and let his maker lead him out of the room.

——

Jaehwan was shivering, but he was trying to hold it in, keep his teeth from chattering. He curled back into the kitchen chair, his hands wrapped loosely around his mug of tea, gone lukewarm during their conversation with Wonshik.

Hongbin sat across from him, in the opposite chair, and he was glaring with resolution at the back door. Wonshik was still outside, not making any more ruckus, but it didn’t matter. 

This wasn’t how Jaehwan would have handled it. It was— presumptuous, of the vampires, to just send people in to fix the house. On face value, it did not seem to be something deserving of such reflexive anger. But he hadn’t seen it for himself, and Hongbin had sharply pointed out that it wasn’t so much about the gesture, which seemed kind, as it was about the notion behind it. That Hongbin and Jaehwan needed to be _kept_. That the vampires had Taekwoon, and that meant they had Hongbin and Jaehwan in turn as well. That they weren’t going to get Taekwoon back, but rather, that Jaehwan and Hongbin were also going to be dragged into the dirt with him. 

It hadn’t even been something that Jaehwan had thought of. Why would he, the vampires— they’d been so gentle in the aftermath of Taekwoon’s— death, his death— but of course, Jaehwan had seen Hakyeon’s manipulation at work. He knew they were only seeing partials, facets, rather than the whole picture. 

It had struck a definite chord of fear in Jaehwan. They had the spell still, which was definitely a card that could be played. But Jaehwan knew in his heart of hearts he wouldn’t be able to stand against the vampires’ demands, not when time was of the essence, and Taekwoon needed them. Needed them soon. If the vampires decided to hold him hostage— Jaehwan would give them whatever they wanted, to get him back at their side, vampire or no. 

Jaehwan wanted to believe they weren’t evil. For Taekwoon’s sake— they were blood bound now, and Sanghyuk had— had said—

Jaehwan swallowed thickly, closing his eyes. They’d been foolish indeed. The joy of knowing Taekwoon wasn’t utterly lost to them had overshadowed the harsher facts. That just because he wasn’t truly lost, didn’t mean they’d ever be getting him back. 

But so far, the vampires had made no demands, and if they were to be cruel, surely they would not have waited. Surely— surely— they would have immediately showed their true colors, set the traps down as soon as Taekwoon was turned— but Jaehwan couldn’t know—

There was a very soft knock, on the door. It had been approximately ten minutes since they’d scurried back into the house. Wonshik had let them go so they could calm down, so _Hongbin_ could calm down, but in the end they were apparently to have no peace. Jaehwan’s heart ached for Taekwoon, he wished he was here so badly he thought the desire might summon him. But it did not. 

“You can come in, Wonshik,” Jaehwan called tiredly, and Hongbin whipped around to stare at him like he’d gone mad. It didn’t matter. They’d lost. They’d lost everything and there was no point clinging to the illusion that they hadn’t.

The doorknob turned, and Wonshik pushed the door open, stepping tentatively inside the house. Hongbin glared hatefully up at him, but didn’t move.

Wonshik closed the door behind himself gently. “Thank you,” he whispered to Jaehwan, and it was all Jaehwan could do not to cry. Hongbin had shed enough tears— and he was mortified for it, Jaehwan could tell. Wonshik was so hard to read, so hard to bounce off of. He gave you nothing. That air of calm, of unflappable patience was back, flat as a cliff face. “Sanghyuk said he explained,” Wonshik said, “but he apparently did not explain well.’

Jaehwan began to shake his head. Sanghyuk didn’t explain much of anything—

“He said some bullshit about you all being brothers now,” Hongbin said. Jaehwan felt his brows drawing together, and he looked to Hongbin in confusion, but Hongbin did not meet his eyes. 

“We are brothers,” Wonshik said softly, and Hongbin sneered. “You keep saying we have Taekwoon— but it goes both ways, Hongbin, and I think that is something you’re missing. Both of you.” Wonshik’s eyes flickered over Jaehwan before he continued. “We have Taekwoon, yes, but he has us too— we’re not nest vampires, we’re Elimias, we’re a coven, he is my _brother_ , now.”

“And his emotional needs are your own,” Hongbin said, mocking, and Wonshik blinked down at him in surprise. “Sanghyuk said that too. It sounds like more bullshit.”

Wonshik’s gaze on Hongbin was heavy, and even more quietly, he said, “You and I agreed not to play games. I’m not playing one now.”

Jaehwan felt so lost. It was beginning to get annoying. He resolved not to faint anymore. 

Wonshik stepped forward, slowly, and Hongbin flinched further back into his chair the nearer Wonshik got. “I did not mean to treat you as a possession,” Wonshik whispered as Hongbin recoiled away, arms coming up to hug himself, as if he could feel Wonshik’s hands on him, and was trying to rub the ghost of Wonshik’s touch away. “You are bound to Taekwoon, and he is bound to us. So you are bound to us, too. It is a vampiric way of thinking, and I did not think how it would look, from a human perspective. I only sought to help, Hongbin. Because Taekwoon loves you, and we are blood bound to look after you, for his sake.”

Jaehwan could see Hongbin’s throat working, the shining of his eyes. “Fuck you,” Hongbin said thickly, turning his face away from them and scrubbing angrily at his eyes, erasing the evidence of his weakness. 

The tips of Wonshik’s shoes were brushing Hongbin’s, he was so close. Wonshik reached down and took Hongbin’s jaw in his hand, forcing his face up. Hongbin glared at him, dampness lingering on his cheeks, and Jaehwan eyed Wonshik warily.

“I’m sorry for frightening you,” Wonshik murmured, and Hongbin stilled, in an odd mimicry of a vampire. “I’m sorry Hakyeon turned Taekwoon. I’m sorry that we are irrevocably in your lives. I’m sorry that I am going to have to continue to violate your wishes, your autonomy, in some way, as I am blood bound to watch over you until Taekwoon is himself enough to return and do it instead.” Wonshik paused. “Is there anything else you would have me apologize for, or will that suffice?”

Jaehwan could see Hongbin’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “You could apologize for being an asshole,” Hongbin said roughly, and Jaehwan almost hissed out of fear. 

But all Wonshik did was let Hongbin’s jaw go, in favor of running his knuckles softly over Hongbin’s cheek. “I’m sorry I made you cry,” Wonshik whispered, and Hongbin jerked away from his touch.

Jaehwan wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe the vampires were just trying to look after them, rather than steadily tightening a noose around their necks. Only time would tell though. And he did not think he had an abundance of that left. 

“We just want Taekwoon back,” Jaehwan said, hating how broken and vulnerable it was. Wonshik’s hand dropped down to his side as he turned unblinking eyes on Jaehwan. “We want him back and to be left alone.”

Wonshik’s stare was unnerving. “Perhaps once that was a wish that could be granted, but no longer, not fully,” he said, and Hongbin’s mouth twisted even as Jaehwan drooped. “Hakyeon is letting Taekwoon decide what he wants to do, come here, or stay with us, or run. But no matter what he does, we will be a fixture in his life, here even after you two are gone. He will have to adjust. So will you. So will we.”

Jaehwan wondered what Wonshik had to adjust to. Hongbin jabbed at Wonshik’s hip with a bony finger, making him take a step back. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we don’t do the whole adjustment thing well— and it’s a trait we got from Taekwoon,” Hongbin growled. “Where even is he? Feasting on a buffet of homeless people? He’ll hate you for it.”

It was almost comical, how Jaehwan could _see_ Wonshik holding back a sigh. “Hakyeon isn’t letting him kill,” Wonshik said simply, and Jaehwan’s breath caught, stomach jolting. “And he is at our home, with Sanghyuk.” 

“I know—” Jaehwan began, breathless, and he paused to lick his lips before he continued. “I know newborn vampires are often completely out of their minds, but is he— is there any way at all we could talk to him?”

Hongbin’s gaze snapped from Jaehwan to Wonshik, eyebrows drawn into a scowl, but Jaehwan could see the desperate hope in his eyes. Maybe Wonshik could too. 

“Yes,” Wonshik said heavily. “Yes— though he is— he is not well.” He paused, then added very quietly. “But I suppose neither are you.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone. “Let me contact Hakyeon.”

——

It wasn’t as bad tonight. Or maybe Hakyeon had been better braced for it, for the way Taekwoon crushed his ribs as he held him, his teeth ruthless and unforgiving. No, it was— less feral, more controlled, even just slightly. There was more Taekwoon in it, his consciousness clinging. Which was surprising, but Hakyeon was pleased for it.

Hakyeon bit at his own bottom lip so he’d not make a sound as Taekwoon’s fangs dug into his neck again. He was sharply aware of Sanghyuk’s eyes on them— he didn’t need to be here, Taekwoon hadn’t needed any prompting this time. Kyungsoo had opted to stay with his feeder, tucked away in the room behind the door at Hakyeon’s back, but Hakyeon’s children apparently had voyeuristic tendencies. 

Taekwoon made soft, sweet noises as he fed, little desperate whimpers. Hakyeon murmured soothingly at him, hands rubbing circles on Taekwoon back. “I know, kitten, I know,” he whispered. Over Taekwoon’s shoulder, Sanghyuk’s face was twisted in a grimace, and Hakyeon almost wanted to stick his tongue out at him. 

“I think he’s taken enough, Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk murmured. 

Probably, Hakyeon thought, but he let Taekwoon have a few more mouthfuls before he gently pushed him away. Taekwoon blinked at him, but he didn’t protest, just licked at his lips and said something too soft and nonsensical for Hakyeon to understand. 

Hakyeon wrapped his hand around Taekwoon’s arm, holding firmly, and turned, opening the door behind him. Beyond was Taekwoon’s blue room, Kyungsoo and the feeder, Seokjin, sitting side by side on the bed. Seokjin had opted to keep his shirt on, but it was unbuttoned halfway, hanging off one shoulder. He was a very pretty sight, Hakyeon had to admit. Kyungsoo’s eyes were bright, calculating, absorbing. He’d said barely a word since he laid eyes on Taekwoon, and it was making Hakyeon nervous.

Taekwoon made to jerk forward, but Hakyeon held him firm. “Easy, kitten,” Hakyeon murmured, and Taekwoon made a noise that was unflattering. Seokjin’s heartbeat was loud in the quiet of the room.

“He does not look in control,” Seokjin said, sharp. “He looks like he is going to eat me.”

Kyungsoo tapped Seokjin’s knee, and the human fell silent, though his lips pursed unhappily. Hakyeon longed for Yixing. But he couldn’t expect every feeder to be so good natured. 

“Bring him here, Hakyeon,” Kyungsoo said, and Hakyeon took measured steps forward, keeping Taekwoon from rushing. He wasn’t struggling as much as the previous night, but he was definitely utterly focused on Seokjin, in a way that was very animalistic. Sanghyuk was quiet, hanging back in the doorway, gaze heavy.

Taekwoon was within striking distance, and for all that Seokjin’s face said that he was peeved, Hakyeon could see him shaking. Taekwoon, surprisingly, didn’t grab at him though, he just stared, apparently waiting for— permission? Or perhaps simply for Hakyeon to let him go. Hakyeon was holding his arm tightly still, tugging him back to keep him from utterly attacking Seokjin. Kyungsoo reached forward, up, gently touching Taekwoon’s jaw, perhaps to guide him, but Taekwoon shook his hand off. 

Seokjin leaned in, tipping his head to the side, eyes skittering to Hakyeon as if to ask if this was alright. Kyungsoo didn’t move to touch Taekwoon again, but he did place his hand over the side of Seokjin’s neck, protective. “Let him, Hakyeon,” Kyungsoo murmured, and Hakyeon gave Taekwoon more slack, his free hand splaying on Taekwoon’s upper back to guide him down.

Taekwoon nosed at Seokjin’s skin, right under where Kyungsoo was covering, his hand coming up to rest on Seokjin’s shoulder. They knew when he’d bitten down because Seokjin winced. Hakyeon noted that while it wasn’t— it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t frenzied either. Carefully, Hakyeon let Taekwoon go, and Taekwoon’s newly freed hand simply came up to grip Seokjin’s other shoulder. 

“I don’t like this,” Seokjin announced. He was young, close to their age limit of twenty-one, and not as experienced as the other two boys Kyungsoo had hired. 

Kyungsoo retracted his hand, because Taekwoon had latched on and didn’t seem inclined to ravage Seokjin’s jugular. “Shush,” he murmured. “You are being paid.” Seokjin subsided.

The angle was awkward, uncomfortable, but Taekwoon drank and drank, giving no signs of stopping. Hakyeon listened carefully, as the pounding of Seokjin’s heart began to slow. Kyungsoo seemed less concerned, and was mostly watching Hakyeon. It put Hakyeon on edge like nothing else could.

Hakyeon placed one hand on his pocket, where the little silver dagger was tucked away, snug, as his other hand scratched lightly at Taekwoon’s nape. “Kitten, Taekwoon, that’s enough,” Hakyeon murmured. Taekwoon didn’t move, and Hakyeon curled his hand around the juncture of his neck and shoulder, pulling lightly. 

Surprisingly, Taekwoon pulled off Seokjin, his head drooping as his hands pushed Seokjin back by his shoulders. “Take him away,” Taekwoon rasped. 

Seokjin was already moving, but Kyungsoo grabbed him anyway, leading him swiftly from the room with the most forcefully neutral expression Hakyeon had ever seen. Taekwoon’s newly empty hands braced on the bed as Taekwoon’s legs gave way, and he crumpled to sit on the floor, his forehead resting on the edge of the bed.

“I can hear his heartbeat, I can hear his _breathing_ ,” Taekwoon gasped. There was blood all over his mouth, his lips shone wetly with it and his eyes were dazed. 

Hakyeon stepped back, stepped away. Taekwoon didn’t move, and for all that he looked like a doll that had been tossed on the floor, there was nothing limp about him— every line of his body was strained, trembling. His control was astounding. 

Hakyeon strode from the room, muttering, “Sanghyuk.” He closed the door of the room, shutting Taekwoon in, and Sanghyuk obediently stood outside it, guarding, as Hakyeon went into the living room.

Seokjin was on the couch, doing up the buttons on his shirt clumsily. The red from the bite wound was seeping through the cotton— but it was white and could be bleached. Hakyeon’s own wounds had already healed, but his sweater was black, so it didn’t much matter. 

“His control is improving, but still tenuous, and I don’t want to stress it further,” Hakyeon said softly, looking to Kyungsoo, whose expression was still neutral. He looked so very small in this large room, ruffled and young. “I think it best if Seokjin is taken off the premises.” 

Kyungsoo blinked up at him slowly, eyes large and owlish. He hadn’t really gotten to _meet_ Taekwoon, just to see him. But Hakyeon wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting really. Taekwoon was a newborn. 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo said, slowly. Hakyeon wondered what he was thinking. “I suppose it is best not to test him too much, and I don’t wish to be away from the house for too long at any rate. Mostly I was just— curious.”

Hakyeon should let it be, but he had to ask. “What did you think of him?”

“I think he is very much your type,” Kyungsoo said, as he impatiently knocked Seokjin’s fumbling hands out of the way and re-did the boy’s last two buttons himself. He caught the look Hakyeon was giving him and let out a frustrated little noise. “I don’t know what to think, Hakyeon. All I know is you’ve stuck your neck out very far for him. It will take me time, for me to see exactly what it is you saw in him that made you decide he was worth the repercussions.”

Hakyeon scuffed his toe against the hardwood flooring beneath him. “Hopefully there will be no repercussions,” Hakyeon muttered, and Kyungsoo shot him a dark look. 

“Yes, wouldn’t that be ideal?” Kyungsoo said coolly. He pulled Seokjin to his feet, and Seokjin wisely accepted the manhandling without a word. “To get through the trial unscathed, like last time.”

Hakyeon fought not to flinch. He hadn’t made it through unscathed last time, not really. But that was Kyungsoo’s point. 

Kyungsoo sniffed, then shook his head. He patted Hakyeon’s shoulder as he passed, soothing the hurt his words had caused. “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Kyungsoo said gently, and Hakyeon nodded, finding he did not want to speak further. “Come, Seokjin.”

Seokjin swayed a little, but he followed Kyungsoo out of the house without needing any assistance. Once they were out of the house it took very little time for the sound of his heartbeat to fade away. Hakyeon willed himself to relax. It was beginning to dawn on him that— this was his new life, it wasn’t going to stop, this— this constant battle. 

Hakyeon heard a door creak, and he looked to the hallway. Sanghyuk emerged first, Taekwoon oddly small in his wake. He’d wiped at the blood on his mouth, but there were still faint smears. Sanghyuk had been listening, and Hakyeon only knew because his eyes were shuttered. 

Hakyeon opted to ignore Sanghyuk. He’d been acting weird since last night anyway. “Are you alright, kitten?” Hakyeon asked softly, motioning Taekwoon further into the living room.

Taekwoon gave his head a quick shake, but not in reply, more like an animal trying to shoo off buzzing gnats. He clutched the front of his robe together, holding onto himself tightly. “I’m tired,” Taekwoon said thickly. He blinked at Hakyeon, squinting through the light and the fog that no doubt still lingered at the fringes of his mind. He added in a bare whisper, “And I’m still hungry.”

Hakyeon glanced at Sanghyuk, giving the slightest jerk of his head, and Sanghyuk flittered to the kitchen to get Taekwoon a blood bag. Taekwoon kept squeezing his eyes shut, like he thought that might help reset his mind. Hakyeon understood— the bloodlust was a thing that needed getting used to, and it could be damned maddening. It was why so many vampires didn’t bother with control. 

“You should sleep,” Hakyeon murmured, approaching Taekwoon’s side, feet making no noise on the floor. “You did well, you know.” Sanghyuk came back, blood bag in hand with a cheery yellow straw jabbed into the top of it. Hakyeon took it from him, patting him lightly on his flat ass and murmuring, “Thank you, my darling, you should probably get yourself one too.”

Sanghyuk did not roll his eyes— good thing too because Hakyeon would have had to hit him harder. He just went back into the kitchen, and Hakyeon held back a smile as he handed the blood bag to Taekwoon, who looked, for lack of a better word, moody. 

Taekwoon sucked on the straw, one eye squinted shut, the other fixed on the collar of Hakyeon’s sweater, at the residual blood there. “I heard— what trial?” Taekwoon asked, suddenly, mumbling around the straw. Hakyeon stilled, just for a fraction of a second, before he touched Taekwoon’s elbow, lightly, impersonally, intent on leading him back to his new room, but Taekwoon did not follow his lead. His bare feet may as well have been rooted to the floor. “Who was that vampire?”

Hakyeon look up to meet Taekwoon’s eyes, almost smiled fondly when he saw Taekwoon’s scowl, the stubborn set of his mouth. “He is my maker,” Hakyeon said softly, and Taekwoon’s scowl dissipated some in the wake of his surprise. “He owns the establishment I’ve been getting the humans from.”

Taekwoon looked away, down, at their feet, his own bare ones and Hakyeon’s polished oxfords. He seemed thoughtful, still blinking rapidly, trying to shake off something intangible that he’d carry with him for eternity. 

“But what trial?” Taekwoon finally asked. His lovely, feline eyes flickered back up to look at Hakyeon, and even though he was fighting with his new body, there was still ample lucidity in that gaze. Taekwoon was too stubborn to be edged out even by the bloodlust, apparently. Hakyeon was breathless with a sort of quiet awe over him. 

Taekwoon was waiting for a response. Hakyeon did not want to give him one. He tapped Taekwoon’s elbow. “Finish your blood bag,” Hakyeon said lightly, and Taekwoon of course, lowered the bag, opening his mouth to protest. 

There was a buzzing sound, grating, and then Sanghyuk called from the kitchen. “Hakyeon, your phone is ringing.”

Hakyeon stepped back from Taekwoon, turning to shout over his shoulder, “Well, answer it!”

“Brat,” Taekwoon whispered, and then went back to sucking on the straw in a rather surly fashion. Hakyeon shushed him softly.

Sanghyuk was there in a flicker, holding Hakyeon’s phone out to him. “It’s Wonshik,” he said simply, and Hakyeon took the phone and put it on speaker, since Taekwoon would be able to hear it anyway. And he was definitely listening— if he’d been a dog his ears would have been perked.

“Speak, my wonderful eldest son,” Hakyeon said, holding the phone near his face. He hoped this wasn’t anything bad. Taekwoon had enough to worry about without Jaehwan blowing up a car.

Wonshik’s low voice was even more rough through the phone. “Is Taekwoon awake?” Wonshik rumbled, slight static crackling over the line. “Is he lucid?”

Hakyeon raised his eyebrow, glancing up at Sanghyuk, whose face was a controlled mask of vague interest, and then to Taekwoon’s, which was openly curious. The blood bag seemed to be helping him. 

“Yes and yes,” Hakyeon replied slowly.

“Where is he?” 

Taekwoon surprised Hakyeon by pressing against his side, hand placed on Hakyeon’s shoulder to brace himself as he leaned into the phone. The touch send a thrill up Hakyeon’s spine, but he tamped the emotion down, fought the urge to lean into the touch. “I’m here,” Taekwoon murmured. 

There was the sound of scuffling, over the line, crackling, and then—

“Taekwoon?”

It was Jaehwan’s voice, distorted through a bad connection, but unmistakably him. Sanghyuk stilled, and Taekwoon did not. He grabbed the phone out of Hakyeon’s hand, dropping the blood bag in his haste. Taekwoon held the phone to his chest with both hands, like it was a baby bird, as he stumbled back into the shadows of the hallway with it. 

“Jaehwan,” Taekwoon murmured, and the emotion in that one word cut Hakyeon to his core. 

There was a sound, distorted through the line, but it was roughly a sob. Taekwoon looked to Hakyeon, eyes that of a frightened, hurt animal. Hakyeon had noticed, had noticed Taekwoon’s lack of questions— about Jaehwan, about Hongbin. Maybe he’d been to caught up, too distracted— but he also had probably been trying not to think about them. 

“Taekwoon,” Jaehwan said, voice broken, “are— are you—”

“I’m dead,” Taekwoon said thickly, blinking quickly now to fend off tears, rather than the bloodlust.

“That— but are you still okay?” Jaehwan asked, the words stumbling out, like he was fearful the phone might get taken away from one of them and he had to speak as quickly as possible. 

The effort to not cry was failing; as Taekwoon curved over the phone, a bloody tear fell off the tip of his nose. “I’m dead,” he said again. “Jaehwan, I’m sorry—”

“Wonshik said— when are you coming back?” Jaehwan asked. “Can— can you come back—”

“Are you being held hostage?” Hongbin’s voice suddenly came on, louder than Jaehwan’s, like he’d pressed his face right to the phone. 

“What?” Taekwoon asked. “I’m _dead_ , do you— I can’t— I can’t come back—”

 _You could_ , Hakyeon thought, despair lying cold on his skin, _you can_.

Jaehwan and Hongbin were both talking, it was impossible to make out the words, but it all culminated to sound decidedly argumentative. Taekwoon was staring down at the phone with such acute pain on his face Hakyeon was surprised he couldn’t feel it. 

“I’m a vampire,” he said, loudly, and it broke through and made the humans on the other end fall quiet. “I can’t come back.”

Hongbin said, “Why the fuck not?” at the same time Jaehwan brokenly burst out, “Taekwoon, we don’t _care_.”

It was Jaehwan’s words that Taekwoon latched onto, voice rising in anger, in fear. “How can you not care?” Taekwoon asked, almost vicious. “I— I’m—”

Hakyeon could finish it for him. _I’m a monster now_.

“You’re my fucking family,” Hongbin interjected, just an angry, just as vicious. “You’re not going to fucking run away from us just because you can’t face this. We can. Come _home_.”

Taekwoon stumbled back, until he hit the wall of the hallway, and then he slid down to the floor, curling brokenly on the unforgiving wood.

“Taekwoon, we miss you,” Jaehwan was imploring. “Taekwoon— please—”

“You want me to come back?” Taekwoon whispered, the hope in his voice fragile and awful.

“ _Yes_ ,” Jaehwan said.

“You’re stupid,” Hongbin added, and Taekwoon gave a broken sob. 

Hakyeon startled when Sanghyuk grabbed his hand, wordlessly tugging Hakyeon into the kitchen to give Taekwoon an illusion of privacy. Sanghyuk— his face was so grim, and he leaned Hakyeon up against the cold countertop before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tissue. He blotted Hakyeon’s face with it and the tissues came away with watery red splotches. Hakyeon hadn’t even noticed he’d begun to cry. Sanghyuk’s face was dry, but he looked as wretched as Hakyeon felt.

 _Had the Witch said Sanghyuk and Jaehwan would fall in love_ , Hakyeon thought, struggling to remember, _or simply that Sanghyuk would fall in love with Jaehwan_. Had Hakyeon doomed Sanghyuk in this too. 

Hakyeon snatched the tissues from Sanghyuk, impatiently dabbing at his eyes. He shouldn’t be so foolish as to cry— for what, because Taekwoon loved Jaehwan and Hongbin. Because it was clear, that the moments of softness, weakness, Taekwoon gave to Hakyeon, were nothing compared to the well of emotion he was capable of. The well of emotion he held back, because he didn’t and couldn’t love Hakyeon as he loved them.

Taekwoon was talking, his feathery, beautiful voice floated in from the other room. “I haven’t killed anyone, I’ve been trying so hard,” he said, the words punctuated by hiccups as he cried. “I’ve been so _frightened_ —”

Sanghyuk tugged more tissues out of his pocket, offering them to Hakyeon, and Hakyeon pressed them to his mouth, rather than his eyes, so Taekwoon would not hear his sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. this took more time than i anticipated to write :c i'm having a lot of trouble finding the words lately, and i really hope that my writing isn't suffering for it :\   
>  2\. i kinda just wanted to thank everyone who has been reading this story and supporting it, whether you comment or not. this work has been so challenging for me so far, and i'm terrified i'm not doing as well as i could be. so i'm really just. appreciative of all the love that gets sent my way :c


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when I was about midway through writing this chapter, I thought it might end up being short enough for me to post directly onto lj.
> 
> this turned out to be a really stupid assumption.

Hongbin didn’t want to be here. But he didn’t really want to be anywhere these days, and at least standing here restocking canned green beans was putting money in their pockets.

He’d need to be here more, in fact— they hadn’t been comfortably making ends meet even with both his and Taekwoon’s combined jobs, and now that Taekwoon wasn’t going to be contributing any income anymore, Hongbin wasn’t sure how they were going to do this. Jaehwan had a healthy savings account, left to him from his parents who’d been methodically saving up for their children’s education, bolstered further when Jaehwan sold their car and mobile home after their deaths. But that was a finite supply and they’d been ritualistically dipping into it through the years anyway. 

It would be easier, if they could move somewhere smaller, somewhere cheaper. But light-proofing another room for Jaehwan would be very difficult. Hongbin knew the chances of them being able to afford another house with a basement were very slim. No, moving was probably not an option.

Hongbin would need to figure something else out.

“Excuse me?” a soft, feminine voice behind Hongbin said, and he turned to see a young woman in a pink sweater gazing up and up at him. She had a shopping basket hooked on her elbow, and her cheeks were pinker than her sweater from the outside cold, or maybe from shyness. 

Hongbin smiled, automatic, like a machine. “Yes? Can I help you?”

She looked away from his eyes, down at the edge of his apron, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Hongbin noted that she was pretty, though she had a slim, fragile quality to her that Hongbin couldn’t help but be reminded of Jaehwan. 

“This is going to sound really weird,” she muttered, her fingertips lingering at the shell of her own ear. “But I think you know Taekwoon? He works at Miaou Cafe, and I’ve seen you visiting and talking to him there?” Her eyes looked up to his face again, and Hongbin turned away, so she couldn’t see the smile on his face falter.

He felt like he should remember her, but he didn’t. It wasn’t surprising. Hongbin had a bad habit of ignoring people. “He’s my roommate,” Hongbin said simply, hands busying themselves putting more cans in a tidy row on the shelf in front of him. 

He faintly heard her shifting, fidgety. “Can I— I mean— is he alright?” she asked, and Hongbin glanced over his shoulder at her, eyebrow cocked. It caused her to blush further. “I know this is really strange, like, you don’t know me, but I see him all the time at the cafe and he’s been gone, and when I asked the manager he was like, oh Taekwoon has missed all his shifts the last few days, we can’t get ahold of him. So I was just— just—”

She stopped talking, seeming to realize she was blabbering. Hongbin was definitely reminded of Jaehwan, albeit a much younger Jaehwan. 

Hongbin was by nature a suspicious person, but this seemed pretty simple. Taekwoon had obviously been working on her, at least a bit. Maybe unconsciously. She was definitely his type, slender and delicate and soft. Taekwoon seemed to like people he could hold up against walls. 

“He’s gone,” Hongbin said carefully, resuming his shelf restocking. “He left.” It was the same story he’d told his boss. Saying Taekwoon had died could be dangerous, so it was easier to just say he’d up and left. It gave Hongbin an excuse to be more prickly, without possibly coming back to bite him in the ass later if it came out there was no proof of death. And this way Taekwoon could still have a voice, if need be. The house and car were both in his name. Though the vampires could probably just— do something about that. But Hongbin would be caught in bed with one of them before he asked them for help. 

“He left?” the girl asked, and somewhere deep down, the disappointment in her voice made Hongbin feel a little bad. “Is he— coming back?”

“No,” Hongbin said simply. He rubbed his palms together, chasing away the grittiness there. Some semblance of the social skills his mother had tried to ingrain in him made him add, “He’s okay, I think— but he’s left this part of his life behind. He isn’t coming back.” 

The girl was frowning slightly, hunched back into her sweater. “Oh,” she said, clearly glum. “I see. Thank you.” 

Hongbin moved the now-empty crate to bare the full one below it— this one had cans of corn. “No problem,” he muttered. He was ready for this strange encounter to be over. 

She stepped back in a sort of half-stutter, biting her bottom lip, before blurting out quickly, “If you talk to him again— I don’t know, just tell him that I asked about him.” 

Hongbin squinted up at her from where he was kneeling. “Alright,” he said, but she was already skittering away, the tips of her ears pink. He shook his head, not used to— normalcy. This was normal. A girl with a crush on her local barista, asking his friends to deliver messages. He knew it wasn’t unusual, but for him, it felt unusual. 

It was ridiculous, but his life had been ridiculous for so long at this point. He was up to his neck in vampires, and it should have felt surreal and wrong but it somehow felt more solid than anything from the past few years hunting, than anything from his life in school at Hope. Hongbin was good at letting life slide by, like water running off a duck’s wings. But this— it just couldn’t. 

Of course everything was going to be different now. It wasn’t just Taekwoon who’d left his old life behind. Hongbin and Jaehwan had decided they were going to stay with him. All that seemed to be left to determine was the manner in which they would follow. 

“She was pretty.”

Hongbin glanced up to see his boss, an elderly man with a slightly curved spine, smiling down at him, eyes twinkling. He was holding a roll of the bags for customers to put the fresh produce in. Hongbin was lucky that his boss looked on him as if he was a child. The perks meant his erratic behavior were counted as part and parcel with teenage nonsense, even if in turn he had to put up with gentle hearted teasing about many things. 

“I guess,” Hongbin said, scowling down at the box of canned corn. 

His boss shuffled off. “Don’t get too distracted with flirting, you have more crates in the back,” he called back as went, and Hongbin felt himself pinkening a little.

She had been pretty. But Hongbin didn’t really care for pretty. Or small. Or gentle. He’d gone on dates — with his face it was impossible to avoid them — and he could remember the girls touching him, a hand placed on his arm, tentative fingertips reaching out for his own softly. Too softly. Hongbin couldn’t even remember the sensations. 

All Hongbin could remember anymore was the touch of vampires. Fangs buried into his neck. Arms like stone pinning him still. Hands holding delicate wrists too roughly. Things that left bruises, left impressions in his mind like footprints in damp sand. These were all Hongbin could remember. 

Except— he remembered knuckles gently touching his cheek, fingertips on his jaw. But those touches had been soft too, and they’d fade, just like everything else. 

——

Living in perpetual darkness was beginning to be disorienting. Taekwoon woke with no sense of time, and it didn’t help that vampire sleep was not at all like human sleep. It was like fading from existence, his last wakeful moment feeling like a blink ago rather than hours. And lacking the familiar sense of grogginess usually accompanied with waking, it gave the effect that he wasn’t sleeping at all. 

Taekwoon sat up, smoothing his hands over the silky covers of his bed, and reflected on the absolute lack of necessity for beds at all. Vampiric sleep was more like a comatose state induced by the sun in the sky, a magical compulsion, they didn’t _need_ beds. They could probably just as well sleep on the hardwood floors. Or on a rough rock outcropping. 

He found himself unwillingly curious as to if other vampires lived this way, or if it was simply the mark of an Elimia. It was hard to imagine the vampires that had ripped into Hongbin, the vampires he’d killed, going to rest for the day on beds like civilized beings. 

Taekwoon sniffed. He was hungry. He was _always_ hungry, the faint tug at the back of his mind never going away fully. It was starting to grate. 

He pushed the covers off himself. He was wearing his own sweatpants, his own black tank top. Taekwoon had been a mess last night, emotional and broken, but he remembered lying curled up here, remembered Wonshik coming home with a duffel bag of his own clothing. 

“I had them pack you some stuff,” Wonshik had said softly.

Having his own clothes back in his hands, on his new body, had been as surreal as seeing Hakyeon with his leather jacket. The clothes smelled human, smelled like home. It had only made Taekwoon ache for it more.

They wanted him back. It still didn’t feel real, didn’t feel right. He was terrified of going back, of the burden this would cause them— more than that, he was afraid of losing control and hurting one of them. But Hakyeon was walking proof that vampires could control themselves, and Taekwoon wanted so badly to see them again. He just didn’t know what use he would be now, what good he could do them. He would be nothing but a danger and a liability. 

Taekwoon swallowed thickly, toying with the hem of his shirt. He needed them, now, more than they needed him. It was selfish, but if they still loved him, still wanted him there, he would return to them. As soon as he could. There was nothing he could deny them, and his heart swelled with the thought that they were still his. Even now, even in death, they were his. 

All he could do was work on his control, on boxing in this hunger, and trust that Hakyeon would help him maintain that control, that they would keep Jaehwan and Hongbin safe and well until he could go back to them in a more permanent sense.

Taekwoon slid out of bed, revelling in his new fluidity of motion. Being this graceful, this quiet and fast, would make hunting so much easier. It was a silly thought, but it flickered through his mind unconsciously. He wasn’t a hunter anymore. Not in the same way as before. 

When he tried his door, it opened under his touch, which meant at least one of the others were awake. Hakyeon had explained that when they were going to bed, they placed a charm on Taekwoon’s door to keep him in. That way on the off chance he woke before them and wasn’t very in control, he wouldn’t be able to just open his door and run out into the night after prey. It made Taekwoon feel slightly uneasy, the thought of being trapped in, but he understood the reasoning behind it, and would rather deal with the mental discomfort than run the chance of accidentally hurting someone. 

The hallway was bright, as it had been the previous night, the white walls shining like they’d been freshly painted. Taekwoon could not hear any noise coming from the living room, but there was the faint sound of water rushing through pipes, signalling someone showering in one of the bedrooms. Hakyeon’s was at the very end, the master suite, presumably, and then Wonshik’s was beside his, and then Sanghyuk’s, and then Taekwoon’s. It felt familial, somehow, but also sort of ridiculous. 

Almost as soon as Taekwoon had stepped out into the hallway Sanghyuk’s door was opening to reveal Sanghyuk in a well-ironed white button down, tucked into a pair of black jeans. Sanghyuk peered at him in a way that was almost childish, as much as that was in juxtaposition to his large size. “Hey, Taekwoon,” Sanghyuk said. “You’re up early.”

“Am I?” Taekwoon asked. There didn’t seem to be any clocks in this entire house. It was decidedly disorienting. 

“Yeah, Hakyeon is still showering, though I’m almost ready to go,” Sanghyuk said. He opened his door the rest of the way, body language easing. 

Taekwoon wondered if this was as odd for Sanghyuk and Wonshik as it was for him. Taekwoon and Hakyeon knew one another to a degree, but he was still nearly strangers with the other two. 

“You— you’re going to see Jaehwan and Hongbin?” Taekwoon asked, trying to sound neutral, trying to sound like he was okay with that thought. He was learning to trust Hakyeon, and he should try to trust the others too. But trusting them with his own well being was different than trusting them with his loves.

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk said, looking away from Taekwoon’s face and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “We’re just trying to make sure they don’t get into trouble— Hongbin isn’t making it easy.”

Stupidly, that made Taekwoon feel a bit better, and he snorted, lips curving into a wry smile. “No, he’s difficult,” Taekwoon murmured.

“Do you have any advice?”

Taekwoon shrugged. Hongbin was what he was, butting heads with him or trying to change him was fruitless. “Let him be difficult,” he said simply.

“And—” Sanghyuk licked his lips nervously. “And Jaehwan?”

Taekwoon felt himself still, then immediately covered it up by shifting his weight to his other foot, glancing at Sanghyuk to see if he’d noticed. Sanghyuk’s expression was mild and impossible to read, and Taekwoon grabbed his own forearm, hand covering the scar Jaehwan had left him with, suddenly feeling self-conscious with it exposed. “Jaehwan’s only difficult if you give him reason to be,” Taekwoon said. It was the truth for the most part. Sanghyuk’s eyes flickered down, to where Taekwoon’s hand was rubbing at the scar. “This was an accident.”

“I see,” Sanghyuk said, and there was something in his tone that put Taekwoon on edge. His eyes were lingering just a bit too much on the scar Taekwoon was trying to cover. “Taekwoon, you and Jaehwan— you’re obviously very close.”

“Yes? He and hongbin are my family,” Taekwoon said, feeling his brow crease with confusion and suspicion. Sanghyuk may not know Taekwoon well but he should have seen enough, especially last night, to know that.

“I— yes, I think we’re all aware of that, but I more mean— are you—” Sanghyuk was hesitating, and he was so large and had such sharp features that seeing him seemingly nervous was striking. Finally, he gave a large sigh and blurted, “Taekwoon, are you and Jaehwan together?”

Taekwoon blinked, and were he human, he probably would have blushed. Or gone pale. As it was, he was able to simply open his mouth and say, “What?” It only half-sounded like a frog croak. 

Sanghyuk tried to shake his head and raise his hands in a peaceful gesture at the same time and it just looked like he’d lost control of his body for a second. “I’m just trying to get the dynamics down,” he said hurriedly. “We’re all just trying to figure out our new places in this situation.”

“Jaehwan and I aren’t together,” Taekwoon said flatly in a way that, with a lesser man, would end the conversation. He was trying to glare, but wasn’t sure how effective such a tactic would be. “I’ve been effectively babysitting him and Hongbin for over a decade.” 

Sanghyuk stared at him, like he had more to say, more to ask, but Taekwoon was hoping his aura would be enough to put Sanghyuk off. He didn't want to talk about this. It was moot. His feelings for Jaehwan were moot. It was his job to protect Jaehwan, and them being together— it had been impossible before, and now that Taekwoon was a vampire, it was somehow even more impossible. Jaehwan deserved more. Jaehwan deserved life.

“Alright,” Sanghyuk said slowly. He jerked his head towards the end of the hallway. “I need to finish getting ready, and you shouldn’t be alone, so go let Hakyeon know you’re up?” It was said tentatively, like Sanghyuk was afraid Taekwoon might snap at him with his new fangs.

Taekwoon did not snap, though he did bristle at the idea that after all this time being the guardian it was he who needed to be babysat, but he also knew Sanghyuk was right. He shouldn’t be left alone. And maybe there was no shame in needing help. He’d never looked down on Hongbin or Jaehwan for it. It was just hard, to apply the same principles to himself.

He left Sanghyuk, padding down the hall to the last door, touching the knob softly. Hakyeon had not forbade Taekwoon from any part of the house, had left exploring up to Taekwoon’s discretion. But Taekwoon hadn’t had a chance yet, had been too preoccupied with his own emotional storm. He’d never been in Hakyeon’s room.

Keenly aware that Sanghyuk was watching him and feeling an odd mix of gratitude (for the safety net) and annoyance (because he wasn’t a child), Taekwoon knocked softly on Hakyeon’s door before turning the knob and pushing it open himself.

The air that greeted him was markedly warm and damp, and smelling thickly of cedarwood. Taekwoon stepped into the room and shut the door behind himself so Sanghyuk could stop staring holes into his back. 

The light from the open bathroom door was diffused through plumes of steam, swirling lazily and curling toward the high ceiling. It illuminated middling grey walls, kept from being grim by the reddish hardwood floors, the furniture that matched its cheerier hue. Hakyeon’s pillows and comforter were white, and he had a white accent carpet, which surprised Taekwoon. White seemed like a dangerous color, for the bed of a vampire. Perhaps it was simply easier to bleach. There was an outfit, button-down, slacks, laid out on the bed primly.

“Hello?” Hakyeon called from the bathroom. The sound of the shower had shut off when Taekwoon knocked. “Sanghyuk, you should probably get going—”

“I’m not Sanghyuk,” Taekwoon said softly to Hakyeon, who had just appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. 

Hakyeon blinked at him from under a towel as pristine white as his sheets, dripping hair hanging over his eyes. “Oh, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, perfectly casual. Hakyeon had a second towel tucked around his waist, and Taekwoon had glimpsed his rounded hips, the softness of his lower stomach, the sweet curve of his slim waist, before affixing his eyes so firmly on Hakyeon’s face that not-looking-down-again was probably an actual expression on his face. “You’re awake.”

So very awake. He wanted to go back to bed. “I’m hungry,” Taekwoon blurted, because it was safe, and it was the only other thing he could think of. 

Hakyeon huffed out a laugh, scrubbing the water out of his hair. “Okay, kitten, let me get dressed and then I’ll help with that,” he said, smiling in a way that was open and belied absolutely no discomfort to his present state of undress. He turned away, retreating back into the bathroom, and Taekwoon’s eyes skittered over the indent of his spine, the dimples in his lower back, before the bathroom door was half-closing, blocking Hakyeon from view. 

Taekwoon exhaled, slowly, silently, for once glad for the lack of heartbeat so the sound of it pounding wouldn’t betray him. It had flustered him, and it shouldn’t have, they had all the same bits, it wasn’t anything _new_. Maybe it was just because Hakyeon was good at remaining unruffled and all prettily buttoned up, maybe it was because it was the first nearly nude vampire body Taekwoon had seen.

Hakyeon had been very nonchalant. Taekwoon imagined centuries in your own skin had that effect. But Hakyeon didn’t seem like the type who would ever be self conscious, wore his surety like— well. Like a second skin. So perhaps it was due less to his vampirism and age and more to his own personality. For some people, nudity was nothing, bodies were bodies. Taekwoon envied that. Girl bodies flustered him, and the bodies of other boys just made him feel ashamed

Maybe for Taekwoon, it would be something that came with time. 

The door to the bathroom was swinging open again, and Taekwoon’s head whipped up to look, not quite startling. Hakyeon was in a fluffy white bathrobe, considerably more covered, a towel wrapped around his hair. Taekwoon snorted, relieved that the more problematic parts were covered. Hakyeon had sturdy legs, and they were nice, but they weren’t nearly the danger that was the cute dip of his navel in his forgiving stomach. 

Taekwoon looked away again.

“I was going to do the same pattern as before, go get you a feeder and have one of the others watch you— it’s Wonshik’s turn tonight,” Hakyeon said, chatty and light. He whacked at a switch on the wall and Taekwoon heard a fan start up in the bathroom, presumably sucking the humid air out and dumping it out onto the surface. It was minorly loud.

“I want a shower,” Taekwoon said suddenly. He didn’t need one, his hair was rumpled but not greasy, and he smelled like vampire, not anything else more unpleasant. But he thought it might make him feel more human, so to speak. And he was tired and self-conscious and didn't want to greet any more feeders in his pajamas. 

“There’s an ensuite in your room,” Hakyeon said. He took the towel off his head, shaking his hair out. “You could take a bath if you wanted. You need to learn to make yourself at home, Taekwoon. You don’t have to ask my permission for everything.”

“I wasn’t asking for permission, I was whining,” Taekwoon said tartly, and Hakyeon made a small noise of amusement and said _oh_. Taekwoon eyed him warily. There was self-loathing churning in his gut unpleasantly. “I’m hungry.”

Hakyeon sighed, draping his damp towel over one of the bed posts. “I know, kitten,” he said. He looked at Taekwoon, expression patient and fond. “Give me a chance to put some pants on.”

Taekwoon swallowed thickly. “I’m always hungry, and I’m tired of it, I hate— feeling it tug at me, even after I’ve fed.”

Hakyeon had been rummaging in a drawer for a pair of briefs, apparently, but he paused to glance at Taekwoon assessing. “That is why so many vampires glut on blood, let themselves kill,” Hakyeon said softly. “The hunger can be maddening, but caving to it only makes it grow worse. You’ll get used to it, will get to a point where it can hum in the background unnoticed.” 

The thought that Hakyeon had gone for centuries letting it niggle at him and had only killed when he was a newborn suddenly was thrown into a bit more perspective. “It never goes away?” Taekwoon asked. 

“No,” Hakyeon said simply, tugging out a pair of red briefs with a triumphant flourish before looking at Taekwoon with that same fond expression. “You’re doing well, you know,” he said, and Taekwoon couldn’t flush, but the sensation of wanting to was there. “I— I didn’t mean to listen in last night, but I still heard you talking to the others. I know this has been hard for you, and you’ve had to be so strong. But you’re doing it, Taekwoon, you’re making progress, and things will get better. I promise.”

A vampire’s promise. Hakyeon seemed to make a lot of them. “It’s rude to listen in on things,” Taekwoon mumbled. He could barely remember the finer details of most of the conversation. He’d been too emotional, too broken. The aftermath was left in shattered pieces, the sensation of Hakyeon dragging him to his feet, putting him to bed, dabbing at his face. 

“Vampire hearing,” Hakyeon said simply. He tossed his briefs onto the bed, then reached for the bathrobe’s sash at his waist before pausing and looking at Taekwoon expectantly. “Well?” 

Taekwoon’s eyes had become very fixated on the movements of Hakyeon’s fingers, plucking at the sash. He snapped them back up to look at Hakyeon’s face.

There was no smile on Hakyeon’s lips, no expression adorning his features. “Turn around, kitten, unless you want to see,” Hakyeon said, and Taekwoon almost made an involuntary garbled noise before he obeyed, turning smartly on his heel so he was staring at the main door of the bedroom. Hakyeon sighed, almost inaudibly, and Taekwoon heard the sound of fabric rustling.

“You’ve seen me naked,” Taekwoon pointed out to the door, because he could hear Hakyeon dressing, the sound of cloth sliding over skin, and he needed to drown it out. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“You have a lot of moles,” Hakyeon said idly from behind him, and Taekwoon wanted to curl up into a very small ball on the floor. “And I didn’t say you couldn’t look, I was merely giving you the option of turning away.” 

Taekwoon had no response to that, he didn’t like having the option to turn away— it in turn meant he had the option to look. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to know.

Turning was said to cure all ailments. But it hadn't cured this. Of course, he had known it wouldn’t, seeing as Hakyeon was— the way he was. It was still disheartening to think he was going to be stuck like this for eternity, battling it just like he had to battle the bloodlust.

There was a musical chime from somewhere to Taekwoon’s left, the room brightening incrementally, and Hakyeon made a small noise of discovery. “I have adorned myself in pants and shirt,” he said, and Taekwoon turned to see him striding to his desk, where his phone was lit up with an incoming message. His shirt was only half-buttoned and untucked, but it was so much better than nothing. The glare of the phone screen caught on the hitch of Hakyeon’s brows, throwing sharp shadows on his face.

“What?” Taekwoon asked, worried it was bad news. “Is it—”

“It is Kyungsoo— my maker,” Hakyeon said, tossing the phone back onto his desk, though the frown still lingered. “He says I should not go to the— I should not go to pick up a feeder, and that he will come here with one instead.”

That felt slightly ominous, though Taekwoon did not know anything of Hakyeon’s maker at all. “What is he like?” Taekwoon asked.

Hakyeon strode past him, and as he went by the scent of cedarwood fluttered over Taekwoon. “Fair,” he said simply, opening his bedroom door and going to Wonshik’s, pounding hard. “Wonshik, wake up, for god’s sake it’s almost eight.”

There was a distant, low rumble in response to that, like some kind of bad horror movie. One door down, Sanghyuk opened his own door to peer out once more, though this time his hair was styled up into a coiffe and he had a black jacket with leather accents on. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I’m not leaving after all, Kyungsoo is coming here again, so I’m sending both you _and_ Wonshik to the hunter house,” Hakyeon said, loudly, and there was a thump from within Wonshik’s room before his door was opening. For as well put together as Sanghyuk was, Wonshik was the opposite, in blue checkered boxers and a rumpled white tee, hair looking like a family of parakeets had made a serious endeavor at settling in it. “You’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Wonshik squinted at Hakyeon. “I just woke up,” he said thickly, unnecessarily.

“Better hurry and put some pants on, then,” Hakyeon said smartly, and Wonshik rumbled minutely but retreated back into his room to apparently do just that. 

Taekwoon marvelled at the dynamic, at Hakyeon’s unquestioned leadership. He wasn’t a man who suffered disobedience, and yet— there Taekwoon stood, stubborn and unwieldy. 

Hakyeon sensed Taekwoon’s gaze, meeting his eyes. “You too, kitten,” he said, a bit more gently. “And if you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you should take that shower beforehand.”

There was a droplet clinging to a chunk of Hakyeon’s hair, and as Taekwoon watched, the droplet slid down the side of his face to then cling to the sharp curve of Hakyeon’s jaw.

Taekwoon shuffled his feet, rubbing at the scar on his arm again. “Okay,” he said softly. 

——

The lettuce in Jaehwan’s sandwich was soggy, but he didn’t care enough to complain. It was fresher than the pizza remains in the fridge, which had gone to their next stage of evolution a few days ago, and would soon proceed from their cardboard state to an even more fossilized version.

Hongbin had a sandwich like Jaehwan’s, premade from his job, given to him for a couple bucks because they were going off. He seemed bothered by it, glaring down at the ham and cheese like it had personally offended him. 

“It’s not that bad,” Jaehwan said around his mouthful, and Hongbin’s mouth twisted.

“As a one time thing,” Hongbin murmured. “After a month of it you might change your tune.”

Jaehwan sunk back into the couch cushions, drawing his legs closer. Hongbin might be right, but it was what it was. They’d never exactly eaten like kings. This would just be another small step back, another sacrifice they’d have to endure. Jaehwan eyed their new window, the shining white of the frame making the faded paint on their walls look dingy. Hongbin may have been pissed that the vampires went over their heads and fixed it, but they wouldn’t have had the money to do it themselves. Jaehwan didn’t like the idea of being a kept human pet any more than Hongbin did, but he was more bothered by the notion that they needed charity, or pity. They probably did, but it stung. It stung for him, but it stung worse for Hongbin, who worked so hard, who’d thrown himself into everything he ever did, and it kept coming up as not enough. Never enough.

The morose way Hongbin sat beside the coffee table, chewing slowly, made Jaehwan want to offer words of comfort, but Hongbin would probably just snap at him. It wasn’t fair, that he had to carry this burden on his shoulders. Hongbin was just a kid. Jaehwan wished he could make use of himself somehow, but all he could do was magic, and he wasn’t strong enough to make spells or charms commercially. 

So Jaehwan just kept quiet and ate his sandwich. Things would settle when Taekwoon returned. Hopefully. 

The house wards chimed, and Jaehwan considered the virtues of maybe lowering their sensitivity, or stripping them entirely. If Taekwoon moved back here they’d just be constantly making a fuss, and that wouldn’t take very long to get absolutely maddening. 

“Our company is here,” Jaehwan said unnecessarily, and Hongbin got to his feet, unlocking and opening the door and then walking back to the sofa. Cold air rushed in from the night as the door hung open, and Jaehwan shivered. 

It wasn’t open for long before suddenly Sanghyuk was standing in it, his shoulders almost taking up the entire span of the door it seemed, and Jaehwan shivered for a whole other reason.

“Uhm,” Sanghyuk said, standing on their welcome mat and peering in through squinted eyes.

“Come in and shut the fucking door,” Hongbin snapped, plopping back down onto the sofa. 

Sanghyuk obeyed without a fuss, and once he moved Jaehwan got a slight start because behind him was Wonshik, a bit too short and slim to have been seen around Sanghyuk. Wonshik was the one who closed the front door, and with two vampires, two tall vampires, in the room with them, it felt slightly claustrophobic. 

It wasn’t right, having both of them in the house, and Jaehwan couldn’t help but wonder _why_ they were both here. Sanghyuk looked— well put together, handsome, Jaehwan noted as dispassionately as he could, dressed in an outfit that Taekwoon would wear, if he’d had the money to afford it. But Wonshik had the look of a man who’d just been rudely awoken. He was in jeans and a slightly wrinkled pinkish sweatshirt, and his hair had been brushed but it was frizzing at the ends. 

“What’s going on?” Hongbin asked, squinting in suspicion. “Why are both of you here?”

Wonshik cracked a wide yawn, his fangs just slightly out, giving the overall motion a sort of canine affect. “Does something have to be going on?” he asked around the end of the yawn, words distorted. Sanghyuk was staring at him, nostrils flared slightly. 

Jaehwan leaned, slowly, carefully, placing his sandwich on the napkin resting atop the coffee table. Sanghyuk caught the motion, and his gaze was that potent mixture of unsettling and captivating. The sandwich had indents from Jaehwan’s fingers, the bread soft and damp from being in a package. Sanghyuk’s eyes skittered over it then back up to Jaehwan’s face. 

“Yes, of course— something is surely always going on,” Hongbin said, scowling as Wonshik approached him. He shrank back into the corner of the loveseat, away from Wonshik, but all Wonshik did was flop, somewhat ungracefully, onto the opposite side of the loveseat. He seemed to deflate once there, groaning softly. Hongbin looked like he wanted to get up and move but knew that would be like admitting defeat, so he just curled away from Wonshik, nose scrunched. 

“Hakyeon is entertaining some company tonight, and for Taekwoon’s sake, he felt it best if we were out of the way, so things might be quieter,” Sanghyuk said simply, because Wonshik’s head was lolling on the back of the loveseat, eyes closed.

“Because you two are a riot,” Jaehwan muttered under his breath, and Sanghyuk smiled at him, just a little, amused thing, and Jaehwan felt himself blushing. He hadn’t meant to be heard. 

“How have you been feeling?” Sanghyuk asked him in a low voice that somehow bespoke of intimacy in a way that made Jaehwan blush harder.

Jaehwan opened his mouth to reply, but Hongbin cut in sharply, “He’s fine.” Jaehwan’s mouth snapped shut and he scowled at Hongbin. 

“He looks like wax paper,” Wonshik said indistinctly, head still tipped back. Maybe he _had_ been dragged out of bed for this.

“So do you,” Hongbin shot back, poking at Wonshik’s knee with a disdainful toe. Could a toe be disdainful. Hongbin’s could, Jaehwan thought. 

“I’m dead,” Wonshik pointed out, and Hongbin made a small, angry noise.

Sanghyuk came to perch on the arm of the couch, approximately two feet away from Jaehwan, who did not lean away through sheer force of will. “Wonshik,” Sanghyuk said softly, and Wonshik sighed softly, and then appeared to stop breathing utterly, sinking further back into the cushions.

“It’s okay, he’s right,” Jaehwan said, not liking the way Sanghyuk was looming above him, gaze heavy. “I know I look sick.” 

Sanghyuk held his hands out, one palm up, the other palm down, like he held a ball between them but there was nothing. Jaehwan stared at them, then up at Sanghyuk’s face, then back down to his hands. He knew what he was meant to do, and it was making his face feel very warm, his stomach weightless. Jaehwan reminded himself of the futility of fighting, anymore. 

He raised his hands, placing them in the air between Sanghyuk’s palms with a questioning eyebrow arch, and Sanghyuk closed his larger hands around them. His skin was very warm, feverish were he human, and Jaehwan almost wanted to snatch his hands back, but he refrained. He could feel the blush all the way to the tips of his ears, just as he could feel Hongbin’s eyes on him. 

“How have you been feeling,” Sanghyuk murmured again, gaze as gentle as his grasp.

Jaehwan swallowed. “Tired,” he said truthfully, and Sanghyuk hummed. 

“If Taekwoon is well enough to entertain company,” Hongbin said loudly and so jarringly Jaehwan flinched a little, “then when can he come here? Soon?”

“We have to do a trial run with him first,” Wonshik mumbled, and Hongbin slid him a glare that Wonshik did not see, for he was still sitting with his eyes closed, steadily becoming one being with their loveseat. “And you need to get that spell off you.”

Jaehwan perked up, taking his hands back. His fingers were markedly warmer. “I keep forgetting about that,” Jaehwan said, looking from Hongbin to Wonshik to Sanghyuk. That was his responsibility, and he could do it, he thought. Undoing spells was less energy than birthing them. Then he remembered that while the vampires had fixed the damage he’d done to the house itself, his workshop and the spell ingredients he’d compiled through the years had suffered as well.

His expression must have fallen, because Sanghyuk asked, “What is it?”

Jaehwan touched his own face in thought. “I just— I can do it, I have to do it, but I— my workshop— I don’t have all the ingredients I need anymore,” he said. Sanghyuk would know, as Hongbin said he’d been the one to clean up the workshop. It still smelled a little sharp down there, but it was nearly back to normal. “If I tell you what I need, can you get it for me?”

Sanghyuk stared at him levelly for a few seconds, while Hongbin made upset tea kettle noises, and then eventually nodded.

Jaehwan wasn’t entirely sure what he needed— he’d have to check his notes, then cross reference them with what had survived his meltdown to figure out what he’d need the vampires to find for him. 

He stood, trying to ignore the way Hongbin was eyeing him in betrayal. “I have to check my stores,” Jaehwan said, “I’ll be back.”

It was cowardly, probably, how fast he fled, leaving Hongbin to deal with the vampires, but his body was betraying him, pulse fast and breath shortening, his skin feeling tingly and flushed. He couldn’t look at Sanghyuk and know that the vampire could hear it, could hear every pounding beat of his heart, every fluttering breath.

Hongbin would be fine. Wonshik seemed to be too mild to mortally offend and Sanghyuk— seemed too disinterested in him. And he needed to get used to the vampires being around. Just as Jaehwan did. For Taekwoon’s sake as much as their own.

He’d taken Wonshik’s words to heart. He hadn’t forgotten what they were, and what the vampires were, and he wasn’t sure he believed their intentions utterly pure and selfless, but at the least he believed them— benign. As benign as vampires could be.

Jaehwan was kneeling in the doorway of the pantry, opening the trap door, when he sensed a presence at his back. He didn’t react outwardly, but his heart skipped a beat. 

“I can do this by myself,” Jaehwan whispered. He opened the trap door, shuffling so his feet were placed on a stair going down. The person behind him was utterly silent, vampire, and Jaehwan was hoping it was Wonshik even as he knew it was a vain thing to wish. 

The vampire followed Jaehwan down into the darkness of his shop, and when Jaehwan’s feet were on the concrete floor he switched the light on and turned to face a squinting Sanghyuk. 

“You looked like you might faint,” Sanghyuk said in offering. “I didn’t want you to tumble down the stairs.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Jaehwan said, loud for all that Sanghyuk was quiet. He stared up at Sanghyuk, the sharp bone structure juxtaposed to warm brown eyes, and waited. Sanghyuk simply stared back down at him, blinking, his head tipped just slightly to the side.

When it was clear Sanghyuk wasn’t going to take the hint and leave, Jaehwan whirled away from him, figuring his best bet was to simply get this over quickly. Perhaps his flustered reactions could be explained as a residual response to _vampire in the room_. It wasn’t necessarily suspicious. He made sure to mutter mutinously for effect, like Hongbin would do. It was easier to hide emotion under anger. 

Jaehwan yanked a drawer in his desk open, taking out one of his older spell notebooks and flicking through it until he got to the siren spell. He then grabbed a pen and a notepad, eyes skimming over the ingredients he had used to cast the spell, and then writing out a list of counter-ingredients he’d need to undo it. 

“This is what I need,” he muttered, and Sanghyuk came to peer curiously at the list over his shoulder. The brush of his body against Jaehwan’s side made goosebumps rise on Jaehwan’s skin. 

“That’s not too bad of a list,” Sanghyuk murmured, and he was too far for Jaehwan to feel his breath on his neck, he was, but the ghost of it was still there. Jaehwan ripped the notepad paper off its little metal spiral, slipping away from Sanghyuk and going around his desk to the shelves on the far wall. This wall had survived a lot of his— energy, that had caused the contents of the adjoining wall to throw themselves to their deaths on the unforgiving concrete floor.

“I— I have a few of the necessary things here already,” Jaehwan said, stalking along the wall, his eyes flickering over jars and boxes and vials. He grabbed the salamander tails, found his hands were shaking and damp. These were expensive, so he made a concentrated effort to not drop them. He delivered them successfully to the desk and then skittered away again, avoiding meeting Sanghyuk’s curious gaze. The vampire— Sanghyuk was clearly trying to be as small and unobtrusive as possible, letting Jaehwan do what he needed.

Next was the European watercress, which Jaehwan thought he had seen a jar of hanging about— yes, he grabbed it, slimmer and taller than the salamander jar. As he turned to deliver it back to the desk as well, he saw Sanghyuk facing somewhat away from him, rotating the jar of salamander tails in his hands. They were moving clunkily as the jar turned, immersed in noxious orange preserving fluid. 

“Did you do any sorcery?” Jaehwan asked suddenly, and from across the room Sanghyuk glanced at him. Jaehwan fought down a shiver. “When you were human, I mean.”

“No,” Sanghyuk said, turning his attention back to the jar of salamander tails in his hands. “I only really got interested in it after I turned, and I could never practice, obviously, but it is a very interesting thing to read about.” He put the jar back on the desk, then tipped his head back and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. “This place smells like earth and formaldehyde and blood and vampires. It smells like death.”

Jaehwan found his eyes fixed on Sanghyuk’s adam’s apple until the vampire lowered his head again and looked at him. “I’m a sorcerer,” Jaehwan said shortly, tersely. “What do you expect?”

Sanghyuk shook his head, and did not offer any more conversation as Jaehwan flit around the workshop gathering what few ingredients he had left. When he’d fettered out all he could he sat back at his desk (they’d brought in an uncomfortable metal folding chair to replace the nicer wooden one he’d destroyed) and set about editing the list. He crossed out everything he already owned, leaving only the things he would need the vampires to fetch. 

Sanghyuk was right, it didn’t smell good in here. He’d like to blame his slight lightheadedness on that, but he knew that was only part of it. Another larger part was on doubt the vampire breathing down his neck.

“Here,” Jaehwan said, holding the slip of paper up. 

Sanghyuk took it, eyes skimming it before he folded it neatly and put it in his jacket pocket. “I think I can manage this by tomorrow night,” he said softly. 

“Thank you,” Jaehwan said, and hated how mechanical he sounded. 

He had so many things he wanted to ask, so many questions that needed answering— why was Sanghyuk being so soft, if he didn’t want sex or blood, what did he want, why Jaehwan, why not Hongbin, why—

Jaehwan pushed off from the chair, using a hand splayed on the unpolished wood of the desk to brace himself. “Thank you,” he said again, more firmly even though his head was swimming. “I—”

He faltered, hip knocking against the edge of the desk as he swayed. Sanghyuk grabbed his upper arms, steadying, holding him up. Jaehwan almost expected Sanghyuk to draw their bodies nearer, maybe pick him up again, but he simply kept Jaehwan upright as his knees remembered what it was like to function again. 

Jaehwan was breathing heavy, and it wasn’t because of vampire in the room, so much as it was because he felt low on air. He worked to get ahold of himself, breathed, and steadily his shaking lessened, his lips no longer felt cold, and the sick feeling in his stomach faded. 

Well, he hadn’t fainted. That was an improvement. 

Sanghyuk’s hands loosened, slowly, like he didn’t want to let go too fast in case Jaehwan decided to faceplant after all. When he did let Jaehwan go, his fingertips trailed down Jaehwan’s arms, hooking lightly around Jaehwan’s fingers.

“I wish you would tell me why you’re sick,” Sanghyuk whispered, and Jaehwan felt himself stiffen. 

“Why does it matter,” Jaehwan asked, frustrated and confused, eyes fixed on Sanghyuk’s clavicles peeking out over the collar of his shirt. They were pretty clavicles. Jaehwan hated them, he hated Sanghyuk.

Sanghyuk’s fingers curled around Jaehwan’s more firmly, so they were holding hands, their bodies facing but not touching. Jaehwan pretended not to notice. “I don’t want you to die,” Sanghyuk said gently, and Jaehwan swallowed.

“Why do you care,” Jaehwan said, and it came out more harshly than he’d intended. Questions, so many questions. His heartbeat was loud in his own ears.

Sanghyuk bent his knees, just a little, dropping his head, and Jaehwan let his gaze be caught, let himself look into Sanghyuk’s warm eyes. “That should be obvious,” Sanghyuk said, and it was almost like Jaehwan had wounded him by asking.

Jaehwan’s face had gone from feeling cold to markedly warm, and he bit his bottom lip, fingers reflexively tightening on Sanghyuk’s. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Sanghyuk was looking at him so intently, but not like Jaehwan was prey, not alert and sharp. It was slow, somehow, if a gaze could be slow, and it reminded Jaehwan irresistibly of those summer nights spent in air as warm as an embrace, back on prickly grass. Something languid, something tender, something dark. 

Jaehwan couldn’t breathe. Sanghyuk had spoken, but he couldn’t remember the words. He was feeling lightheaded again. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he whispered.

He was expecting a nonresponse, something teasing and light to brush him off. But Sanghyuk laced their fingers together, interlocking, and murmured, “Because I want to kiss you, and I’m gauging how well that would be received.”

Jaehwan felt his mouth drop open slightly in surprise, his breath catching. Sanghyuk’s gaze didn’t waver, maybe vampires didn’t feel shame. Jaehwan’s eyes dropped to his lips, and Sanghyuk leaned in, slow, like he thought Jaehwan might spook, or faint. 

Jaehwan should step away, or perhaps faint after all, he shouldn’t—

“Please don’t burn me,” Sanghyuk muttered, his breath fluttering over Jaehwan’s lips. The words caused a surprised huff of laughter to escape Jaehwan, so that when Sanghyuk’s mouth met his, he was smiling. 

Sanghyuk’s lips were warm and dry, and the kiss was chaste and sweet, for all that it made Jaehwan feel like his insides were on fire. Their bodies were still apart, though Jaehwan was swaying forward, holding Sanghyuk’s hands tightly. 

It was Sanghyuk who pulled away, and Jaehwan settled back onto his heels more firmly, eyes fluttering open. Sanghyuk, if it was possible, looked even softer, smiling slightly. He let go of one of Jaehwan’s hands in favor of cupping the side of Jaehwan’s face, his thumb swiping lightly over Jaehwan’s cheekbone.

Jaehwan closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. It had been so long since he’d been able to do this, since he could feel skin on his without worrying about hurting the other person. Hurting them permanently. His heart ached.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Jaehwan said in the barest of whispers. 

Sanghyuk’s hand slid around, fingertips playing with the hair on Jaehwan’s nape. Jaehwan felt Sanghyuk lean back in, but all the vampire did was press their foreheads together. Sanghyuk wasn’t breathing. Jaehwan was breathing too much. “Why?” Sanghyuk asked, and Jaehwan felt the air against his face.

Because the only thing Sanghyuk wanted was the spell, because Jaehwan was dying, because this was so much bigger than the two of them, because of Taekwoon—

Jaehwan kept his eyes closed against the sting of tears. “Kiss me again,” he said brokenly, and Sanghyuk drew him back in. 

——

Hongbin never ceased to amaze Wonshik. The sheer volume of emotion he packed into the spaces of his body, the height of the pitches he worked himself into. Wonshik could feel his pulse pounding against his fingertips, Hongbin practically vibrating like an agitated hornet’s nest. 

“Let me go,” Hongbin said stiffly.

Wonshik did not. He was holding Hongbin’s wrist carefully, keeping Hongbin sitting beside him rather than chasing Sanghyuk and Jaehwan. Hongbin gave an experimental jerk, but the motion did nothing to dislodge Wonshik’s grip, and Wonshik himself didn’t bother to open his eyes. 

“Hongbin,” Wonshik said, and it was almost a groan. 

“You said last night that you are bound to Taekwoon,” Hongbin said, harsh. “Taekwoon wouldn’t want this. Taekwoon wants Jaehwan left in fucking peace.”

Wonshik thought it might be wise to open his eyes, just in case, so he squinted one open, to see Hongbin glaring at him hatefully. “You told Sanghyuk Taekwoon is in love with Jaehwan,” Wonshik rasped.

Hongbin's scowl deepened. He did not deny it. “And it did nothing, apparently.”

Wonshik remembered the blurry fog of waking up, remembered the voices, muffled out in the hallway of his home. “Taekwoon said he and Jaehwan aren’t together,” Wonshik continued lowly, calmly. “I heard Sanghyuk asking.”

“I never said they were together,” Hongbin said derisively, like Wonshik was stupid. “I said Taekwoon is in love with him. If either of you cared at all, you'd respect that.”

Hongbin’s wrist was warm, Wonshik could feel the heat radiating off his body, they were sat so near to one another on the couch. It was like his anger burned from within him, even though his exterior looked more like ice.

It had been Taekwoon's loyalty to his friends that had so enthralled Hakyeon. Wonshik could see such aspects reflected in Hongbin, and disliked that he found himself similarly fixated. Perhaps it could be put down to Hongbin’s beauty, but Wonshik had seen a great many lovely humans over the course of his long life. Maybe, then, it had to do with the spell in his veins, the sweet scent of him, the fact that Wonshik had already tasted him, knew what their bodies felt like pressed together.

Hongbin was a mystery; all the humans were, their dynamics, their bond. How did Taekwoon tame him, Wonshik wondered. What did Taekwoon do to earn such unwavering loyalty. Was it simply Hongbin heeding the words of another person just as angry as he. Probably not, because Taekwoon was angry for a reason, but Hongbin just seemed angry as a state of being. Perhaps Taekwoon had slotted himself into Hongbin’s life before Hongbin became so hateful. 

And there was Jaehwan to consider as well. He was the smallest, the weakest and strongest in tandem. Somehow he'd utterly escaped the bitter anger that saturated Hongbin and Taekwoon. Which left the question of where did he fit, how did he fit, with Taekwoon, and with Hongbin. 

“Sanghyuk isn't going to hurt Jaehwan,” Wonshik finally said softly, surfacing from his thoughts. “He wants to help him. None of us want Jaehwan to die.”

Wonshik expected Hongbin to lash out, call him a liar, or perhaps simply take issue with bringing up Jaehwan’s health in a pained response. But instead Hongbin’s mouth twisted, and he went from glaring at Wonshik to staring across the room, to the darkened living room window. Wonshik could feel the tension leave his body, not in a way that suggested he’d calmed, but more like he was too tired to hold it anymore. 

“Nothing I say matters does it?” Hongbin whispered. All Wonshik could see of his face was the curve of his cheek, the back of his ear. “You're all going to do what you feel is best.”

“It matters, Hongbin,” Wonshik said, feeling his voice reverberate differently because of how low it had dipped. 

Hongbin shook his head, once, just a single jerk. Wonshik reached out with his free hand, fingertips touching the underside of Hongbin’s chin, the skin there soft. He gently turned Hongbin’s face so Hongbin was looking at him. It was— not something Wonshik should continue to do, touch Hongbin softly, intimately. But it felt right. 

“I listen to you, and you yell at me because I’m not supposed to listen to you,” Wonshik murmured, leaning towards Hongbin to better look into his eyes. “I ignore you, and you yell at me for being patronizing. I don't know what to do, Hongbin.” With a human like Hongbin, transparency was probably best. “I don't know what you want.”

"I want Taekwoon back, and I want the rest of you gone," Hongbin said, eyes not leaving Wonshik’s, and it stung a little, but Wonshik should have expected that. Hongbin had said he didn't want to be kept, didn't want to be owned, and Wonshik suddenly realized that in some way he was still expecting Hongbin to— to give him something back, for his patience, his kindness. Which was probably exactly the kind of debt Hongbin had been screaming about wanting to not be held to. "Barring that I would like some sense that I am not talking to a robot with a superiority complex."

Wonshik was decidedly not a robot. He felt many things. Some of them would probably scare Hongbin, if he knew. Hongbin was so violently emotional that he didn’t know how to read Wonshik’s own temperament, took his silence for shallow and still waters. but Wonshik felt deeply too, felt _strongly_. 

“Do not mistake composure for ambivalence,” Wonshik murmured, not unkind but firm. “I decided long ago anger is a useless emotion when one has forever to live. But a lack of reaction doesn't mean I don't hear you, Hongbin, I do. I’m listening.” He paused, then added more quietly, “I told you i'm not going to play your games.”

Hongbin twisted, dislodging the fingers Wonshik had under his chin, and scowled. “I hate you,” Hongbin snapped. “I hate this.”

Wonshik felt his expression soften, just in reflexive response. “I know,” he said, because he did. 

“Oh, fucking don’t,” Hongbin spat, face twisting in obvious loathing. “I know you hate me too, I know you’re sick of me.”

Wonshik sighed heavily. He felt so tired. How could one human exhaust him so. “You said I act like a robot,” he said, “so what’s made you think I hate you?”

“Everyone hates me,” Hongbin said, like it was the most obvious, simple thing. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Everyone hates Hongbin.

Wonshik, suddenly, started laughing, and Hongbin’s face somehow grew even darker. Through the chuckles Wonshik said, “And you want me to act like it, is that it?”

“You just said no games,” Hongbin snapped, “but you’re full of shit because you’re obviously playing one.”

 _I’m not, but you’re making me want to start one_ , Wonshik thought. “Mm, my silence is a facade, I have ulterior motives.” The smile was still lingering on his face. 

“Stop laughing at me!”

That just made Wonshik laugh again. “So what? What shall I do, Hongbin? Will shouting satisfy you?” he asked, and Hongbin tugged on his trapped wrist, but Wonshik did not let him go.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Hongbin said with feeling.

Wonshik switched his grip on Hongbin’s wrist to his other hand, so the hand nearer to Hongbin’s body was free to snap out, striking Hongbin’s thigh with a satisfying _smack_. Hongbin stilled, looking down at the place of impact like he didn’t know what just happened. 

“What the fuck was that,” Hongbin asked, still looking down at his thigh. 

“Me hitting you,” Wonshik said solemnly. “Because you were being a brat and it was annoying me.”

Hongbin’s face snapped up, redness blooming across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. “You—” he began, stopping to huff. He seemed too indignant for coherence. “It didn’t even hurt.”

“Do you _want_ me to hurt you?” Wonshik asked, smile lingering lazily at the corners of his mouth. _Maybe if you beg real pretty I’ll oblige_ , Wonshik thought, and it shocked him enough that he wanted to slap himself. He let Hongbin’s wrist go. 

Hongbin skittered to his feet. There’d been noise from the kitchen, so it didn’t matter, Sanghyuk had gotten his opportunity. “I don’t want your hands on me anymore,” Hongbin spat as a parting jab and then fled. He kicked Wonshik’s shin as he made his way out, and it might have been accidental, but Wonshik knew better.

Wonshik rubbed at his leg, wincing. He’d deserved that, though not for the reasons Hongbin thought. 

He shook his head, clearing his mind. No games. He couldn’t play with Hongbin. Games were only fun when both parties were on an even field. On the same fucking field, even. Wonshik didn’t know where Hongbin was mentally but it felt like the fucking moon.

Soon the siren spell would be gone from Hongbin, and hopefully afterwards Wonshik would stop wanting to draw him close, taste him, fuck him. The temptation would be gone.

And soon after that, it was possible he would be able to grant Hongbin's wish, and walk out of his life. 

——

Hakyeon lounged back in his armchair, having changed into sweats because if he wasn’t going out, he was at least going to be comfortable. Taekwoon sat on the couch adjacent to him, decidedly not in sweats, dressed properly for the first time since he’d turned, in ripped jeans of his own, and an oversized pink and grey striped sweater that swam on him despite his larger frame. Hakyeon didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes lingered, thinking that he’d been right, in his assessment those endless weeks ago; Taekwoon made for a strikingly lovely vampire.

Taekwoon didn’t notice Hakyeon looking at him. His fingers, barely poking out from the sleeves of his sweater, were clutched on his third blood bag of the night. He was glutting himself in the hopes that doing so would be enough to keep him from attacking the feeder the moment he and Kyungsoo arrived. 

“Kitten, you’ve done well these last couple of nights,” Hakyeon reminded him softly, and Taekwoon’s eyes flickered up to him, lips still pursed cutely around his straw. “It should be alright.”

Taekwoon dropped the bag from his face, swallowing. “I feel— I feel solid enough, I guess,” he said, red between his teeth. “But— but I—”

 _I’m afraid_ , Hakyeon finished. “I’m here,” he murmured. “You’re not alone in this.”

Taekwoon didn’t look reassured. “Why is your maker doing this?”

That was a good question, and Hakyeon did not know the answer. It was somewhat foreboding, especially given Kyungsoo’s unusual reticence last night. But Hakyeon wouldn’t say that to Taekwoon when he was clearly unsettled enough as it was.

The wards of the house rippled, and Taekwoon brought the straw back to his lips to frantically finish the bag up. Hakyeon might have laughed, but he was a bit too worried to do so.

He’d left the door unlocked deliberately, and Kyungsoo did not knock, he strolled in like the true master of the house, wearing a simple burgundy v-neck shirt and jeans, heedless of the cold. The feeder that followed behind him was one Hakyeon knew as Taemin, a boy with honey colored hair, overlong and pulled up into a tapering ponytail. He was wearing a coat and boots, dark jeans. 

Kyungsoo’s face was placid, but Hakyeon could see the way he was moving with careful deliberateness, eyes unusually bright. There was a clear flush on his face, a dampness to his skin, that belied a recent heavy feeding. 

Taekwoon didn’t rise from the couch to greet them, choosing instead to turn in his seat and gaze at Kyungsoo and the feeder over the back of it, like a child. Hakyeon on the other hand, stood, clasping his hands in a pose of serenity.

“Master,” Hakyeon said, though it was bland. He could see Kyungsoo was not here for talk. What he was he was here for, Hakyeon did not know. 

Kyungsoo motioned and Taemin sauntered around the island of couches and rug in the center of the living room, shedding his coat as he moved, revealing a rather thin tank top under it. His body betrayed no sense of nervousness, not even in his heartbeat. He came to stand behind Hakyeon, partially, probably to use Hakyeon as a barricade between himself and Taekwoon. Kyungsoo also moved, but he went to stand behind the couch, behind Taekwoon. 

Taekwoon’s eyes had followed the feeder alertly, but Kyungsoo touched his face light, making Taekwoon start and turn to look up at him. Kyungsoo put his hands primly on the back of the couch and then leaned forward slightly, head tilting so more of his neck was bared, in clear invitation.

It clicked for Hakyeon, though Taekwoon faltered. Ultimately Taekwoon turned, getting to his knees on the couch, hands on the back of it to brace himself as he leaned up and over to bite Kyungsoo’s neck.

Hakyeon was unsure what he should do, simply stared at Kyungsoo’s eyes, lost. Kyungsoo, who’d closed his eyes momentarily when Taekwoon bit, sensed his stare, for he looked at Hakyeon, face still eerily calm. “I did not enjoy seeing you in pain, last night,” Kyungsoo murmured simply. A slim line of blood ran from the corner of Taekwoon’s mouth down his chin, trailing down the smooth outstretched length of his neck. Despite the slight spill, he definitely seemed more in control than he had the previous night. He improved with every sunset.

Hakyeon strode over so he could wipe the blood trail off Taekwoon’s neck before it could seep into the collar of his sweater. The blood was warm on Hakyeon’s fingertips, and he succeeded in saving the collar, though the blood had been smeared over his neck in the process. Hakyeon tried not to be flustered by the sight. “He is very willful,” Hakyeon said, voice husky, “which seems to be helping in his control.”

Kyungsoo was still gazing at him with his large, assessing eyes, the flush faded from his rounded cheeks. “Taemin,” he called, though his eyes did not flicker from Hakyeon, “he’s ready for you.”

Taemin came over, surety in every step. A human that either felt no fear, or it had been trained out of him. Taekwoon pulled off kyungsoo, sinking back to sit properly on the couch, hands trailing over the cushions as he moved. His eyes glittered from beneath his bangs, face tipped down and lips red, wet. Already his cheeks were slightly pink.

Hakyeon might have nudged him, but Taemin did not wait for Taekwoon. He simply came forward and put his hands on Taekwoon’s shoulders, straddled his thighs. Taekwoon did not move, did not grab at him, though Hakyeon saw his hands hands fist in the cushions, his joints locking up with the effort to control himself. Hakyeon wanted to tell Taemin that this wasn’t that sort of job, but left it.

“Why do you keep bringing me boys,” Taekwoon muttered through gritted teeth. 

Taemin sniffed, flicking his ponytail over his shoulder. “We have more blood,” he said, touching Taekwoon’s jaw. 

Hakyeon sat beside Taekwoon on the couch, his thigh brushing Taemin’s bony knee, shoulder pressing to Taekwoon’s. “I’m here,” he reiterated. “It’s okay.”

Taekwoon didn’t look at him at all, squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled slowly through his nose. Then he groaned, the sound tapering off high and whimpery. He moved carefully, like a wounded animal— or simply a vampire trying not to lose control, and Hakyeon watched from far too close as Taekwoon’s fangs sunk into the skin at the juncture of Taemin’s neck and shoulder. 

It wasn’t good, the way it transfixed Hakyeon. Though he supposed it was only fair, to allow himself these little pleasures. It was all he could have of Taekwoon, his proximity, the sight of him. He couldn’t touch, he couldn’t have him.

The way Taekwoon’s eyelashes fanned over the upper curve of his cheek was entrancing. 

A hand fell onto Hakyeon’s hair, carding through the strands, and Hakyeon startled. He’d forgotten, for a bright flash, that Kyungsoo was there, was watching too.

Hakyeon cleared his throat, and willed his fangs to retract. “Kitten,” he murmured, “do you think you’ve had enough?”

Taekwoon’s swallowing stopped, but it took him an agonizing few seconds to lift his mouth from Taemin’s skin. Hakyeon was impressed. 

Taekwoon pried his fingers off the couch cushions in favor of grabbing Taemin’s thighs and turfing the human off his lap, so he sprawled across the other end of the couch. Taemin made a small noise of surprise but did not make any attempt to return to his previous position. Hakyeon gently took Taekwoon’s hand and rose to his feet, tugging at Taekwoon. It took a tense beat, but then Taekwoon was unlocking himself enough that he could stiffly be led from the room, down the hall, and into his bedroom. 

Once there, once Taemin wasn’t an immediate threat, Taekwoon deflated a little. His cheeks were positively rosy, and his eyelids seemed droopy. “I did it,” he said thickly.

“You did,” Hakyeon agreed, leading him to the bed and pushing him to sit on it. Taekwoon went down easily, seeming grateful. “You should rest, kitten.”

“I think— close the door and I might be able to sleep?” Taekwoon said, looking up at Hakyeon. He looked so young, so pretty, that Hakyeon couldn’t help but brush the hair off his face.

“Yes, I will, and I’ll be out in the living room, if you need anything,” Hakyeon murmured, stepping away from the bed and leaving the room, not looking back. He shut the door behind himself as Taekwoon had asked, though he felt no need to hang up the charm that would keep it closed. Taekwoon was free to come back out if he wished, if he could not sleep after all. Hakyeon almost wished he would, so Kyungsoo would have incentive to leave.

When Hakyeon returned to the living room Taemin was lying where Taekwoon had pushed him, reclining back on the couch like a cat. Kyungsoo too had not moved, standing behind the couch, hands placed neatly on the back. 

“Thank you,” Hakyeon said, encompassing both his maker and Taemin in the statement. Kyungsoo was looking at him in a way that felt— disappointed, somehow, like he’d caught Hakyeon with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Taemin,” Kyungsoo said, and Taemin made a small inquisitive noise, eyebrow quirking. “There is a bathroom in the library.” Kyungsoo motioned to the hallway that mirrored the one to the bedrooms that led to the library and study. “If you would, please, go clean yourself up a little. And take your time.”

“Yes, sir,” Taemin said, neither deferential nor disrespectful, though his neck was no more messy than Kyungsoo’s. But Kyungsoo’s was already healed. Taemin got to his feet, as quiet as a human could be, and left with surprising grace. 

Kyungsoo waited, and they both listened until they heard the door to the library open and close, Taemin’s heartbeat growing markedly fainter once he was in the room. Then Kyungsoo looked to Hakyeon once more. 

“What is it, Kyungsoo?” Hakyeon asked, fighting not to sigh it out.

Kyungsoo reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope with a deep red wax seal. Hakyeon felt his stomach sink like a weight, and took it. He wedged his thumbnail under the wax of the seal, popping it open and taking out the folded paper from within. Both it and the envelope were made of a pristine, thicker paper.

Hakyeon’s eyes scanned the letter. It was handwritten, though so neatly done it may as well have been typed. It was from the Council. It was his trial. 

“Well?” Kyungsoo prompted. He moved, going to the other side of the couch and sitting down on the edge of it, motioning for Hakyeon to sit beside him.

Hakyeon went, though his eyes did not stray from the letter as he took his seat. “It’s my trial,” Hakyeon said unnecessarily. That much was obvious. “It’s three nights from now.”

“So soon,” Kyungsoo said blankly. “I can’t tell if that is good or bad.”

Hakyeon couldn’t say either. “They— they say my presence is required, but make no mention of Taekwoon,” he murmured, folding the paper back up and holding it to his chest. “So he can remain here, with the others.” _At least he will be safe_. 

He did not say it aloud, but Kyungsoo read it off his face. “What has happened to you, Hakyeon?” he asked, a little sharply. “The world is crashing down around you and yet all you can think of is your hunter.”

The hunter. “He is my child now.”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo said, and this was gentler, “yes, he is. But Hakyeon— he is not in danger. You are. You’ve lost sight of— of everything, put the sorcerer on hold for him, the feeder house, your own _safety_ —”

“What are you saying?” Hakyeon asked, not wanting Kyungsoo’s judgement or a lecture. 

“I can see the way you’re suffering. I see it every time you look at him,” Kyungsoo said, and Hakyeon looked away, busying himself putting the letter back into the envelope, and the envelope on the coffee table. He could not lie, but neither would he confirm Kyungsoo’s accusations. All he did was shrug, one-shouldered. 

Kyungsoo continued when it was obvious Hakyeon would not speak. "I do not think you can handle this," he said, and Hakyeon frowned, a heavy feeling settling at his core. "I think you're too close to this, too irrational. I don't think you will be able to, as you put it a few nights ago, bear his hatred. I do not think while you have him beside you, you will be able to do what needs to be done."

"So— so what then?" Hakyeon asked, voice quivering.

"I think he should be taken from here," Kyungsoo said, sighing it out, and he stood, stepping away before Hakyeon could grab at him. "I think it will be easier for him to move past the injuries you've inflicted if he's apart from you, and I think it will be better for you to have some time to get your head straight."

"No," Hakyeon said, and it was unforgiving, left no room to argue. He would not let Taekwoon be taken from him, no one else would— no one else would put up with his morals, his wishes. They'd let him kill. They wouldn't care. They wouldn't understand that Taekwoon was not like others, that he would never be able to claw back from that. "No, you're not taking him from me—"

Kyungsoo stood beside the armchair, face darkening in anger. "Shut up, Hakyeon, you are out of line," he snapped, and Hakyeon stood, because he was younger and weaker but he could be intimidating in his own right.

"He is _my child_ ," Hakyeon said loudly. He'd never done this before, he'd never behaved this way. He'd always been so good. But Kyungsoo had always been fair. "He is not yours, you cannot have him."

"He is mine because you are mine," Kyungsoo spat back, unflinching as Hakyeon loomed above him. "You've left all your ethics at the door and your priorities are _fucked_ , Hakyeon. Look at yourself."

"He'll die," Hakyeon cried, wanting to shake Kyungsoo, wanting to rail and scream. "He needs me. His brother was killed by a nest, Kyungsoo. That's why he hunted. But he's strong, he's so strong, we’re getting past it, and he's— Kyungsoo— whether or not you think I can bear it, it isn’t your choice."

Kyungsoo looked sad. “It _is_ my choice, and I’m making it.”

Hakyeon hunched against the words, covering his face in his hands and breathing deeply to fight off the lump in his throat.

“I don’t want to go.” 

Hakyeon and Kyungsoo turned to see Taekwoon at the entrance of the hallway, clutching onto the doorframe, fingertips barely peeking out from the ends of his sleeves. His hair was a little mussed, to show he’d been lying down.

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said roughly.

“I don’t want to go,” Taekwoon said again, shuffling forward before he abruptly stopped, like he wasn’t sure he should.

Kyungsoo beckoned at him. “Come here, little one.”

Taekwoon thankfully did not laugh at such a nickname coming from Kyungsoo. Instead, he glanced at Hakyeon, then came forward, until he was standing at the edge of the white rug. Hakyeon stepped away from both him and Kyungsoo, breathing, trying to get ahold of himself.

Kyungsoo watched Hakyeon for a moment, then looked to Taekwoon, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t want to go? Why?”

Taekwoon fidgeted, looking wretched. He wasn’t good at talking, Hakyeon knew this well. “I—” Taekwoon began, his beautiful voice shaky, “I trust Hakyeon.” 

Hakyeon turned away fully, so neither Taekwoon nor Kyungsoo would see the tear that fell, streaking red down his cheek.

“You trust him?” Kyungsoo asked, and Taekwoon made no verbal reply, but Hakyeon sensed that he nodded. “Tell me, little one, has he told you of the trial he faces?”

A pause, and then begrudgingly Taekwoon said, “No. I asked last night but he didn’t answer.”

“Kyungsoo,” Hakyeon said thickly, not wanting to turn around yet, staring desperately at the wall of his home as he grappled with his emotions. “Stop.”

“Hakyeon is called to court, on three counts of murder,” Kyungsoo said, heedless. Hakyeon was glad he could not see Taekwoon’s face, nor Taekwoon his. “Because he killed the vampires who killed you. Presumably to protect you— so they wouldn’t be able to speak about the fact that you were a hunter who drew them in.”

“I killed them because they pissed me off,” Hakyeon said harshly, but it was damp around the edges from his tears. He glared over his shoulder at Kyungsoo.

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said in the barest of whispers, and Hakyeon turned back around fully, feeling the twist of his mouth, the burning in his eyes. Hakyeon wiped clinically at his face, blinking to dissuade any more tears. Taekwoon stared at the ground, brows furrowed and hands clasped in agitation over his stomach. Then he looked at Kyungsoo. “I think you told me that to try and prove your point, but it’s just made me want to leave even less.” 

Hakyeon fought not to wring his own hands. Kyungsoo did not bear arguing, and no one ever really disobeyed him. He was immune to threats and shouting. And then on the other hand, there was Taekwoon, stubborn, beautiful Taekwoon.

“He puts himself in danger for you,” Kyungsoo said softly. “I love him, I love him more than you do, if you love him at all. He cannot make rational decisions with you in the equation.” 

“What decisions are you worried about?” Hakyeon interjected quickly. “Taekwoon is not to come with us to Vrienyre for the trial— what happens there will be on my shoulders alone. And then once home— what? There’s nothing I would do for him that I wouldn’t do for my other children. Are you going to take them too?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Kyungsoo was staring at him, though his eyes flickered to Taekwoon for a breath. Hakyeon knew whatever came next would not be good. “There is still the matter of the sorcerer— I know you have not come down on him out of consideration for Taekwoon,” Kyungsoo said softly. 

Hakyeon did not react. “Sanghyuk and Wonshik are with him now,” Hakyeon said. He had seen the way Taekwoon’s face went slack, eyes widening in fear. And maybe betrayal. “I’m not leaving him unsupervised. But yes, he is as dear to Taekwoon as family, so I have not exactly obeyed your orders in regards to him.” 

Very suddenly, Taekwoon seemed to grasp what Kyungsoo was, who he was. Older than Hakyeon. Stronger. And not exactly as kind. Hakyeon didn't want Taekwoon to think ill of his maker, Kyungsoo wasn’t cruel. But he was clinical, even with things like death. 

“As dear as family,” Kyungsoo echoed softly, then rubbed his hands over his face. Of course, Hakyeon had chosen that phrasing deliberately; Taekwoon was blood, and as such, his blood was their blood. Whether it be a true relation or an emotional one. From behind his hands, Kyungsoo mumbled, “At least you’ve retained enough of your wits to keep an eye on him.” The slight tone of surprise there stung. Hakyeon wasn't so far gone that he’d just let Jaehwan frolic off into the night. He wasn’t stupid. He was just in love.

His mind ground to a halt at that, and he stilled. Kyungsoo did not notice. Taekwoon did, eyes searching. Hakyeon looked away from him. 

“Alright,” Kyungsoo said, raising his head from his hands, composure fixed back in place as easily as a tie that had been knocked askew. Hakyeon, whose lashes were still damp, envied him. He did not usually fray at the seams thus, but when he unravelled, it was with much gusto and a subsequent difficulty to pull himself back together. “ _Alright_. The picture is clearer now. You—” 

There was the sound of a door, and all three vampires turned in a synchronized motion towards the source of the sound. It took a few beats too long, for Taemin to come peering out of the hallway, his heartbeat as sure as it had been when he’d first walked in. “I took my time,” he said, a little meek. He could surely sense the tension in the air. “But if you need me to take a walk, I will.”

Kyungsoo’s brows drew down in a fearsome scowl. _Please leave_ , Hakyeon thought at Kyungsoo, as if his maker would be able to hear. _Please_.

After a long, drawn out moment where none of them moved nor spoke, Kyungsoo shook his head. “We will go home,” he said simply, and Taemin maybe seemed a little relieved. He walked across the room and to the stairs up to the front door, giving Taekwoon such a wide berth it must have been a deliberate choice, but his movements were casual enough that an untrained eye would not have even noticed. It was a wise decision; Taekwoon’s hands were fisted at his sides, and his joints once again had the look of being locked with tension. 

“Kyungsoo,” Hakyeon said as his maker shifted from one foot to the other. He stepped forward, fingertips catching on Kyungsoo’s sleeve. “Please.” 

Kyungsoo looked up, into Hakyeon’s eyes. “There are other matters at hand, there is more than you,” he said, very softly. Hakyeon bit his bottom lip, feeling the sting of new tears, and Kyungsoo sighed. “Hakyeon— I do not mean to be cruel. You are my only child and I love you dearly. But you have to understand that from an outsider’s perspective this behavior of yours lately has been both worrisome and _ridiculous_.”

Hakyeon could not deny that was probably true. “Once the trial is over things should settle,” Hakyeon said fervently in an equally low tone. Taekwoon would be able to hear regardless— but Taemin, waiting by the front door, did not need to. “Please, give me a chance to prove to you that I can do this. That we can do this. He’s only three nights old, Kyungsoo. Please, please don’t take him from me.”

Kyungsoo blinked slowly, then stepped away from him, mouth twisting in thought. Hakyeon fought not to cry again, and it was stupid. Tears solved nothing. But he’d fought so hard for Taekwoon, that is was just unfair, that he might lose him to— to benign intervention. 

Kyungsoo saw the new tears and sighed again. “Yes, Hakyeon, yes, alright, I will give you your chance. But it is not without stipulations,” Kyungsoo said slowly, finally. His gaze was hard. “After the trial I expect more rational behavior from you. I expect that things will be _dealt with_. Including the sorcerer. Is that understood?”

“I—” Hakyeon said, eyes flickering to Taekwoon’ stricken face. “Yes, I understand.”

“We’ll take it night by night then,” Kyungsoo said, voice almost mechanical.

It wasn’t an agreement on Kyungsoo’s part to not step in, but it was the best they could hope for. Hakyeon was grateful for even this respite. "Thank you," he said, stilted, stiff, and he hated it, hated that it had come to this. He and Kyungsoo almost never fought. 

Kyungsoo opened his mouth, closed it, shaking his head a little. “Chanyeol and his delegation will be arriving to the house tomorrow, so you and Taekwoon will come— with either Sanghyuk or Wonshik. Your choice.”

“Yes,” Hakyeon said numbly, and something flickered over Kyungsoo’s face. Something like regret.

Kyungsoo turned away, moved to leave, but he stopped for a moment beside Taekwoon, who flinched away from him. Hakyeon knew Kyungsoo would be hurt by that, even though he did not know Taekwoon well. But Kyungsoo’s face remained blank, whatever emotions he had kept locked away behind his sweet face.

“I know you must think me a monster,” he whispered to Taekwoon, who made a small noise and shook his head. But the motion was fearful. Kyungsoo did not realize it, but threatening Jaehwan or Hongbin was like pressing on a bruise for Taekwoon. It was his achilles heel. “I would not have liked our introduction to be this way. But Hakyeon is my blood and thus so are you, this is your world now, and in ways it can be just as vicious as the one you were ripped from. More so. You will— you must— learn to play the game. For your own sake, as well as the sake of those you love.” Kyungsoo’s eyes flickered back to Hakyeon. “And for the sake of those who love you.”

Taekwoon did not respond to that, he looked simply wretched. Kyungsoo left his side, going to the front door, where Taemin, ever well-trained, was waiting with a saint-like patience. Hakyeon knew the boy to be quite energetic and playful, but in the interest of not being skinned, he apparently could be quiet and demure. 

When Kyungsoo left, he gave a sigh that was almost a groan. Possibly because he knew he had botched this meeting. Hakyeon wasn’t sure what his maker had been expecting— perhaps he had thought Taekwoon would jump at the chance to be taken elsewhere.

Truthfully, Hakyeon was almost surprised he hadn’t. But then, Jaehwan and Hongbin were nearby. Taekwoon wouldn’t want to be taken from them when he was so close to getting them back, at least in some capacity.

The moment the front door swung closed Taekwoon was whirling, eyes wide and panicked. “What did he mean?” he asked, frantic. He paced across the room to Hakyeon, grabbing Hakyeon’s upper arms. “What did he meant _deal_ with Jaehwan? What game?”

Hakyeon shushed him, smoothing Taekwoon’s hair back from his face, seeing the sparkle of tears in Taekwoon’s eyes. “He just wants the spell,” Hakyeon murmured, soothing. “It’s dangerous— he wants it on his side or nullified.”

“Nullified,” Taekwoon echoed numbly. Hakyeon’s hands dropped, resting on Taekwoon’s chest, his eyes searching Taekwoon’s face. “Dead. He wants Jaehwan dead is what that means.”

“He cannot kill Jaehwan,” Hakyeon said firmly, hating the empty terror in Taekwoon’s eyes. Hakyeon— in a stupid, selfish way he was jealous of Jaehwan, of the love Taekwoon held for him, but he was damned if he was going to let Taekwoon suffer. “He can’t. Because you love him. I told you, awhile ago, a vampire cannot harm a human that belongs to another.”

Taekwoon didn’t look like he fully believed that. “Jaehwan doesn’t belong to me.”

Hakyeon tapped a finger over Taekwoon’s lips, hating that his brain noted they were warm and soft. “The game, remember?” he asked, and realization flickered over Taekwoon’s face. Hakyeon lowered his finger. “Could Jaehwan be persuaded to divulge the spell? That might make things easier— on all of us.”

Taekwoon leaned away, just slightly, and Hakyeon followed his lead and stepped back, so they were— not nearly embracing. Taekwoon’s hands slid from Hakyeon’s arms. “We were afraid that if we told you, you’d kill him,” Taekwoon whispered.

“I told you, that won’t happen,” Hakyeon said firmly. “I won’t let it.”

Taekwoon stared at the wall, at the fake windows. “You can’t promise that,” he said softly, and it wasn't accusing— it was said in the defeated tone of a child realizing their powerlessness for the first time. The harsh slap of disillusionment. “You— you’re strong. Before this, before I died, you were the oldest and strongest vampire I’d ever encountered. I just— I didn’t realize that there were things out of even your control.” 

“I’m not a god,” Hakyeon said softly. He wished he could be, he wished he could promise Taekwoon he’d never feel pain again. But he could not. 

Taekwoon swallowed; it was audible. “No, you’re not,” he whispered. He scrubbed perfunctorily at his eyes with one of his sweater sleeves, then looked back at Hakyeon. “Since the choice is the spell or death, I think Jaehwan could be persuaded— not that that’s really a choice.” Taekwoon’s mouth twisted. “And what is the point, really, of threatening a dying man with death.”

“Kyungsoo is not unfair,” Hakyeon said, and Taekwoon snorted, an awful, derisive sound. “He isn’t, he is just— old.”

Taekwoon shook his head, a frown blooming on his face as he crossed his arms, sweater sleeves flopping. It was interesting, Hakyeon would have expected him to lash out in response to what he surely perceived as typical vampire cruelty. It had happened before, when they’d found the body of that girl. Taekwoon had dragged Hakyeon through the dirt for it. But here, he was clearly unhappy with Kyungsoo, but he wasn’t damning Hakyeon by proxy of being vampire too.

It was progress. Kyungsoo couldn’t see it, but it was there. Taekwoon was beginning to _see_ them, as individuals, as people. He could do this, just as Hakyeon could. 

“He told you— he told you to get the spell or kill Jaehwan, and you disobeyed?” Taekwoon asked, tone oddly tentative.

Hakyeon blinked, affecting a mild expression. “I did not disobey, I merely dragged my feet,” he said, smiling thinly. “The game, remember?”

He had hoped Taekwoon could be persuaded to smile, but instead his oversized child continued to scowl, expression thoughtful. “I— I heard,” he stammered, then took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “How long have you known about— about my brother?”

Hakyeon’s stomach dropped. Of course Taekwoon had heard that. Of course. “Since a few days before you were killed,” he admitted, trying not to shrink away. 

Taekwoon nodded, his gaze flicking up. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You—” Taekwoon began, then stopped, huffing. The scowl was ever-present on his face, and Hakyeon was afraid this conversation was about to turn. “You take a lot of measures to protect me, don’t you?”

Hakyeon blinked. “I—” he said, then broke off. He hadn’t been expecting that. Eventually he shrugged, as casual as he could manage. “I suppose, yes.”

Taekwoon’s frown had evolved into something less angry and more— sad. “The trial?” he said, and it was a question, but Hakyeon wasn’t sure what Taekwoon meant by it.

“What about it?” Hakyeon asked. 

Taekwoon looked away, down, to fiddle with the overlong sleeves of his sweater, plucking at the large loops of the weave. “Is there anything I can do?” Taekwoon finally asked, and Hakyeon’s chest ached. 

“Be good while I’m gone,” Hakyeon said, voice catching unpleasantly. He sniffed, blinking quickly, and then when that failed he swiped at his eyes like that would erase the new tears.

Taekwoon reached out and grabbed Hakyeon’s upper arms again, but this time when he drew Hakyeon nearer he pulled him all the way against his body. The hug was stiff, Taekwoon— Hakyeon got the impression Taekwoon didn’t get the chance to hug very often, his arms were locked around Hakyeon’s back in a way that felt so robotic that Hakyeon almost laughed. But instead he sunk into Taekwoon’s warmth, the scent of him. He smelled like Hakyeon’s shampoo, Taemin’s blood, and underneath that, like the magic between them.

“Taekwoon?” Hakyeon said, voice muffled in Taekwoon’s sweater. His hands were sort of trapped between them, and Hakyeon was unsure if he should hug Taekwoon back or not. This felt like a dream. 

Hakyeon felt Taekwoon drop his head down, mouth dangerously close to Hakyeon’s ear. “Thank you,” Taekwoon whispered, the air catching on the shell of Hakyeon’s ear, ruffling his hair, and Hakyeon had to fight not to gasp. “For fighting for me. Thank you.”

Hakyeon squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face more firmly against Taekwoon’s sweater. It was stained, he was getting blood all over it. Taekwoon, for his part, gave Hakyeon that gentle, sweet patience he seemed to reserve solely for Jaehwan and Hongbin, and did not seem to mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i missed the weekend again, and i'm vERY ANNOYED ABOUT IT, but in my defense after i posted chapter 16 i lost the entirety of the following week to The Depression, so. this means i also replied to very few comments and for that i am sorry :( but by the time i felt more mentally capable it felt too late to reply to people SOBS   
>  2\. it was recently brought to my attention that you apparently cannot kudos a fic multiple times? i ??? thought this fic had so many kudos because people were kudo-ing every chapter ????????? iS THIS NOT SO ???????? I CAN'T COMPREHEND THIS.   
> 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not mean to take a month to update. this chapter isn't even super long. and not much even happens. IM SORRY.

It took a slow, bleary few minutes for Hongbin to realize he’d been woken up by the sound of knocking. Once he registered the noise, his brain latched on, and his stomach jolted unpleasantly as his memory kicked in. Were they back, the men, the workers, doing something else to his home he did not want.

He sat up, feeling the way the back of his hair was sticking up. He was already mad. His eyes skittered over the clock on his nightstand, telling him it was after midday. 

The knocking started up again, or perhaps it was the pounding of a hammer on a wall. Hongbin shoved his covers off, shivering in the chilly air. They couldn’t afford to push the thermostat any higher but this was just miserable. 

As he walked out of his room and down the hall, he was able to discern the knocking was, in fact knuckles on their front door. When he looked through the peephole, he did not recognize the person on the other side, a boy in casual clothes.

They didn’t get people selling stuff around here, not usually. This wasn’t the neighborhood for it. And Hongbin was pretty sure the religious sorts usually travelled in pairs. 

The boy was gearing up for another round of knocking, and Hongbin cut it off by opening the door, squinting out into the glare of the sunlight. “What,” Hongbin snapped, not much caring that he was being abrupt. His eyes swept up and down the boy’s frame, catching on the hefty paper bags set down at the boy’s feet.

“Hongbin,” the boy said, and Hongbin’s eyes snapped up to look a little closer at his face in surprise. The boy wasn’t anyone he knew, he didn’t think— he looked older than Hongbin, dark hair and golden tanned skin, a full mouth. Hongbin would remember such a striking face. The boy was gauging him, not smiling, but not frowning either. Simply level. “I’m Jongin. Sanghyuk sent me. Let me in?”

Hongbin squinted further, less inclined to listen than before, and he hadn’t even been up for it to start with, but Jongin was bending to pick one of the paper bags up and then pushed it through the gap in the door, into Hongbin’s arms. It wasn’t heavy, but it was decidedly full. Hongbin looked down into it, and could only see the tops of tupperware containers. 

Jongin picked up the second bag, hefting it carefully, and before Hongbin could say anything about it, Jongin had pushed the door open now that Hongbin’s hands were full, and then he was inside the house, peering around. Hongbin made a low noise that Jongin ignored.

“Kitchen?” Jongin asked, and Hongbin decided the sooner he complied the sooner this person would leave. He was thoroughly fed up with vampire lackeys. He nodded to the archway on the other side of the living room, and Jongin, with a calm sort of grace, breezed through. Hongbin followed, his mouth pinched.

Jongin set his bag on the kitchen table, and faintly, Hongbin heard the delicate sound of glass knocking together. Hongbin put his own bag down on the table, watching as Jongin looked around the kitchen. Absently, it seemed, Jongin unwound his navy scarf from around his neck, and Hongbin caught bandages peeking out from the collar of his sweater. It made Hongbin look at him in a more assessing manner— Jongin was dressed casually but _well_ , in a taupe overcoat and jeans that fit just a little too nicely. 

Hongbin could tell he was kept. A pet, probably. But whose. Sanghyuk’s? That seemed unlikely.

Jongin’s hands dropped from the ends of his scarf, letting it hang around his neck, and then he touched the bag he’d carried in. “This is the delivery for Jaehwan, I’ve just picked it up from the airport as per request,” Jongin said, almost mechanical, and Hongbin nodded. He hadn’t been expecting they’d get the spell ingredients so quickly, nor in such a fashion. But he shouldn’t be surprised. The vampires clearly had money.

“Thanks,” Hongbin said, a bit too dry to be polite. He looked at the bag he’d brought in. “And this?”

“It’s food,” Jongin said, already reaching into the bag and pulling out a container of what looked like spaghetti. Hongbin blinked, watching as Jongin took out another container, this one with soup.

“Food,” Hongbin deadpanned. He wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not— no, he was definitely offended. This was just more of the vampires trying to manage them, keep them. And Hongbin was not going to be kept. “We don’t need food.”

“It’s for Jaehwan,” Jongin said, mild, not at all bothered by Hongbin’s rude tone. “Sanghyuk said he’s ill.” Jongin looked over from unloading the bag, taking in Hongbin’s scowl. “I can’t stop you throwing it out, but Sanghyuk will probably just bring by more.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Hongbin ground out. He was mad about the sentiment, but more than that, by the fact that Jaehwan _was_ sick, and he would probably benefit from having real food in his stomach as opposed to stale pizza. Jongin looked almost sympathetic. Almost. It grated Hongbin all the more. “Who the fuck are you? A vampire errand boy?”

“Of sorts,” Jongin said, sniffing. “I do a lot of things.” He seemed almost amused by Hongbin’s outburst. His eyes were back to being assessing, and Hongbin wasn’t the type to be self conscious, but there was something in Jongin’s eyes that was simply unsettling. 

“You should go,” Hongbin said abruptly. 

Jongin surprised him by laughing. “I should,” he agreed, and obligingly flicked the end of his scarf over his shoulder and walked out of the kitchen. Hongbin followed more slowly, watching him carefully. Jongin’s eyes skittered around the living room before he opened the front door himself and then turned back. “Sanghyuk says he’ll be by tonight. I expect you and I will see one another in the future.”

“Splendid,” Hongbin said, utterly not meaning it, and then Jongin stepped back out into the winter brightness, closing the front door behind himself. Hongbin stalked to the door and twisted the deadbolt home, and it scraped loudly as it went. Hongbin hoped Jongin heard it. 

He wondered who Jongin belonged to. Subtly, he peeked through the curtains in time to see Jongin drive away in a sleek black car. He’d reminded Hongbin, a little, of Hakyeon.

——

Hakyeon had always been a little high strung, and it was never a particularly enjoyable aspect of his personality, but currently, it was a bit of a relief to indulge in his fussy tendencies. It felt normal, safe, to worry about Wonshik wearing an ugly bucket hat to meet Chanyeol, rather than the larger issues looming over his head. 

“No,” Hakyeon said, pointing back at the hallway. He was in the living room, waiting for all his children to get themselves together. Kyungsoo hadn’t given them a time frame to work with, but Hakyeon knew the earlier they went the earlier they could leave. “Take that off your head. We’re meeting a King.”

“It’s _Chanyeol_ ,” Wonshik snapped, but he obediently turned and went back to his room to put the hat back. Wonshik hadn’t wanted to come, but Sanghyuk— Sanghyuk would not be persuaded. He wanted to see the humans, though he would not tell Hakyeon why. 

Sanghyuk came up from behind Hakyeon, touching Hakyeon’s shoulder. “It is just Chanyeol,” he murmured, though he was smiling slightly down at Hakyeon, the expression very fond. His collar was slightly crimped, and Hakyeon fixed it.

“And I am not requiring suits and ties, am I? I simply object to unappealing hats and sneakers,” Hakyeon said crisply. He wasn’t exactly dressed to the nines himself, in a simple rich green sweater and fitted jeans, black leather boots. He liked wearing vibrant colors, it reminded him of his human years, where he spent his nights dressed in bright silks and gold, like a jewelled exotic fish. Though he rarely indulged in it anymore. “Why are you so keen to see the humans tonight?” he added in a murmur, as if that would keep Taekwoon from hearing. It might, if his youngest child wasn’t tuned in and trying to listen. 

Something flickered in Sanghyuk’s eyes, leaving them unusually bright. He returned Hakyeon’s touch, cupping the back of his neck, fingers running through the short hair there. “I think Jaehwan is going to try and remove the siren spell from Hongbin,” he said, mimicking Hakyeon and pitching his voice low. “I simply wish to be there for it.”

Hakyeon hummed, and Sanghyuk’s grip on the back of his neck grew firmer, massaging gently. Jaehwan. Yes. Jaehwan was important. Hongbin too. “Use your judgement, keep him safe,” Hakyeon whispered. It didn’t bear thinking of, Taekwoon’s sadness should something happen to Jaehwan. 

“Of course,” Sanghyuk said. Hakyeon looked up at his child’s face, the kindness and youth he could still see even after all these centuries. Physically Sanghyuk would always be young, so would Hakyeon, and Wonshik, and now Taekwoon too. But Sanghyuk had managed to keep his youth not just in his frame, but in his heart too. It was something Hakyeon sometimes envied. 

He hoped, not just for Taekwoon’s sake, but Sanghyuk’s too, that they could save Jaehwan. Sanghyuk— Hakyeon did not want to watch him suffer through the loss. His heart bruised too easily.

Sanghyuk drew him nearer by the grip he had on the back of his neck, pressing a kiss between Hakyeon’s brows, where a frown had begun to crease. It eased Hakyeon immeasurably, and he felt his eyes flutter closed. 

“I’ve been worried about you, you know,” Sanghyuk murmured against his skin. Sanghyuk moved, so his lips brushed Hakyeon’s eyelids, down to his cheekbones. “Wonshik is too.”

Hakyeon closed off the emotions that swelled, icy in his chest. There was nothing to be done for the trial— it was out of all their hands. Hakyeon would face it when it was time. “The trial will pass, I will be fine, Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon said, and Sanghyuk leaned down further, pressing a firm kiss to Hakyeon’s mouth before pulling away. 

“It isn’t just the trial I am worried about,” Sanghyuk murmured, looking over Hakyeon’s shoulder. Hakyeon turned, dislodging Sanghyuk’s hand as he did so.

Taekwoon stood at the entrance to the hallway, lingering awkwardly. His eyes were wide, and he seemed guilty, as if he’d been caught doing something he should not. Hakyeon knew it was probably because physical intimacy, especially between men, was something Taekwoon still considered a very private affair, maybe even taboo. But there was nothing shameful in love, Hakyeon felt, and Taekwoon would be better off the sooner he learned. 

Hakyeon gave him an easy smile, motioning him nearer. “You ready to go?” he asked, eyeing Taekwoon up and down, and Taekwoon nodded unsurely. His newest child did not have a very many clothes, and even fewer truly nice pieces. Taekwoon’s wardrobe seemed to consist mainly of jeans so ripped it was a miracle they stayed on, and sweaters soft and thin from dozens of washings. Being told he was to meet a king, a vampire king, had made him visibly nervous, and he’d clearly floundered with the instructions of casual but not sloppy. 

But he’d managed it fine, Hakyeon rather thought. He was in a blue, red, and white plaid button-down, tucked into a pair of black jeans that were very minimally ripped and ended in black boots not dissimilar to Hakyeon’s, though decidedly more worn. Over it he had an oversized grey cardigan that swallowed his hands.

Taekwoon squirmed under his scrutiny. He raised a hand, flopping it until the sleeve was down so his fingers were free to brush at his bangs. “I need a haircut,” he murmured. 

Hakyeon disagreed. He rather liked the length, long enough to feather over his eyes, but not obstruct his vision, curling in very soft waves at the ends. It softened Taekwoon, took the edge off his sharp eyes.

“I’ll cut it for you,” Hakyeon said, “but not now.”

Sanghyuk touched Hakyeon’s lower back, leaning in to murmur quickly, “I’m going to head out.” He moved away, smiling at Taekwoon. “I’ll see you later.”

Taekwoon nodded stiffly, hands fidgeting beneath his overlong sleeves as he watched Sanghyuk leave. Then he looked to Hakyeon. “He’s going to see Jaehwan and Hongbin?” he asked. 

Hakyeon hummed in assent. He moved to where Taekwoon was standing, sauntering, and Taekwoon looked away, like he was suddenly shy. “He’s making sure they stay safe. You don’t need to worry, kitten,” Hakyeon assured him once he was near.

Taekwoon swallowed, scowling down at the floor. “You—” he muttered, haltingly. “You and Sanghyuk?”

Hakyeon blinked, fighting not to smile. He didn’t want Taekwoon to think he was laughing at him, when he wasn’t. It had just been so long since Hakyeon had been exposed to a human with such almost puritanical views in terms of physical, or emotional, relations. 

“Me and Sanghyuk?” he echoed innocently. 

If it was possible, Taekwoon scowled even harder, boring holes into their hardwood floor. “You know what I’m asking,” he muttered.

“I do,” Hakyeon said. He tipped his head, looking at Taekwoon’s face though his child would not meet his eyes. “I told you before, maker and child have a very potent bond. It’s a connection thick with magic. Sanghyuk and Wonshik are my dearest friends, my closest family, and they are my lovers too. If that is what you’re asking.”

Taekwoon face snapped to look at him. “But you were— with me—”

Hakyeon felt himself sobering. “You can love more than one person, Taekwoon,” he said, and Taekwoon simply seemed confused by this notion. “My feelings for them did not dim my want for you, nor does it hinder the affection I currently have for you.” Taekwoon shrank back a little, and Hakyeon shut his mouth. 

“Last night,” Taekwoon began, then stopped, shaking his head. Words were not his forte. 

Last night. Taekwoon has seen the depths that Hakyeon cared for him. It was not something Hakyeon had particularly wanted him to see. Taekwoon seemed the type to simply be frightened by such things. Especially given their history.

“I do not expect anything from you, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon murmured. He reached out, fixing Taekwoon’s cardigan where it had begun to slip down his shoulder. He remembered leaning on that shoulder last night, the stiffness of Taekwoon’s embrace. It had been— a strange, but wonderful experience. And it highlighted both how far he and Taekwoon had come, and how far they still had to go. “There are makers who are nothing but platonic with their children, nothing but a parent, or a friend, or a mentor. I am here to be whatever you need.”

Taekwoon drew away, taking the edges of his cardigan in his own hands and drawing them together over his chest, avoiding Hakyeon’s eyes as he did so. “Do you still want me?” he asked, and Hakyeon stilled. Taekwoon added very softly, “As a lover.”

Hakyeon felt the question like a dagger’s edge. His face remained stoic though the answer in him was so violent it almost startled him. Yes, yes he did. He wanted to curl into Taekwoon’s arms, but properly, without stiltedness between them. He wanted to taste Taekwoon’s mouth, wanted to see Taekwoon’s skin damp with sweat.

He shoved it all down, away, because he would not subject Taekwoon to his selfishness, not when his newest child had so many more things to be concerned with. 

“It doesn’t matter, kitten,” Hakyeon said, keeping his voice flat, neutral. It was the truth. “I promised to take care of you and that takes precedence over everything else.” Taekwoon’s mouth twisted in thought, and Hakyeon paused, for a moment, before adding hesitantly, “You told Kyungsoo you trusted me.”

Taekwoon was scowling at the floor again, one hand cupped over the opposite elbow defensively. “I did,” he said, “I do.” It felt unfinished, cut short, and Hakyeon could well guess that the missing words were _to an extent_.

“You _can_ trust me, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, wanting his sincerity to bleed through. “The bond goes both ways. I would never intentionally do anything that would bring you harm, or cause you pain. You’ll see that, in time.”

Taekwoon’s hand at his elbow was picking at the lint on his cardigan. “But you do still want me, don’t you?” he whispered, looking at Hakyeon’s face for a second and then away again, clearly embarrassed.

Hakyeon wondered where this sudden worry was coming from. It was highly possible Taekwoon was regretting touching Hakyeon last night, for more reasons than just because Hakyeon had ruined his sweater with his bloody tears. The thought hurt Hakyeon more than he cared to examine. “Have I done anything in the last few days to make you uncomfortable?” he asked, his lips twitching not entirely in amusement. “Aside from be freely affectionate with my other children.”

“No,” Taekwoon said quickly and with conviction. Though his discomfort was obvious, so perhaps it was simply that he was second guessing his own actions, rather than Hakyeon’s. “I just— I can’t.” He met Hakyeon’s eyes again. “I can’t be with you that way, Hakyeon. I— I just can’t.”

He was frightened. Of Hakyeon. And of himself, his own desires. Hakyeon swallowed thickly. “I know,” he said softly, gently, feeling his heart ache. He wished he could— but he could not. He could stop Taekwoon hating him, could defy his expectations and prove himself worthy in time. But he could not stop Taekwoon hating himself. Though he wished he could. He wished he could take Taekwoon by the hand and show him. “I know. Though, Taekwoon, I said it before— there’s nothing shameful in liking boys.”

Another frown. “And I told you I knew that.”

Hakyeon hummed. He would not argue the point. Any pushing on the subject could be misconstrued as him trying to convince Taekwoon to bed him. And he would not do that, though some part of him wished to. He wanted to remind Taekwoon of that night at the window, of the desire Hakyeon had been able to taste in his blood. 

Taekwoon could want him, could love him as Hakyeon ached for him to. But that wasn’t what he was saying now. He was saying, for whatever reasons, that he wouldn’t. And Hakyeon would not argue with it.

 _Is it because you love Jaehwan_ , he wanted to ask. _Is it because despite everything, you can never truly forgive me for making you into a creature you hate_.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. He expected nothing from Taekwoon. He _couldn’t_ expect anything.

“I just— last night—” Taekwoon was saying, stammering it out.

“You heard and saw some things I would have preferred you not,” Hakyeon said, feeling the words fall blandly out of his mouth. He hadn’t— he did not like it, that Taekwoon had heard how possessive he was, how much he cared. “You can forget it, if it makes it easier for you. I told you I don’t expect anything and I meant it, Taekwoon.”

“No, that’s not—” Taekwoon cut off, shaking his head. “I know you don’t.”

Hakyeon huffed, a little, not liking how lost he felt. “Then what is it, kitten?”

Taekwoon glared at him, and it wasn’t hateful exactly, but it was angry, somehow, and Hakyeon fought not to flinch. It had been many days since he’d been on the receiving end of that look. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve it now.

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter,” Taekwoon snapped. He stepped sharply around Hakyeon, striding into the living area, toward the couch. “Nevermind. Tell me about this King we’re meeting.”

Hakyeon eyed his retreating back. Taekwoon was flustered, for whatever reason. Hakyeon wished he was easier to read.

“Chanyeol,” Hakyeon said, slowly following Taekwoon to the cluster of couches and the rug in the middle of the room. Taekwoon threw himself into the armchair, while Hakyeon opted to perch primly on the edge of the coffee table. “He is my— he’s Kyungsoo’s brother, older by only half a century.”

Taekwoon looked slightly startled by that. “So you’re— we’re— vampire royalty?” he asked. 

Hakyeon didn’t mean to, but he let out a bark of laughter, unable to hold it back. It wasn’t a stupid question, but it was so very human. His laughter didn’t improve Taekwoon’s mood, judging by the darkening of his expression.

“No,” Hakyeon said, trying to get a handle on his smile. “The title of King — or Queen, as it may be — is just that: a title for the position of office. It’s a relic of ages past, before presidents and prime ministers existed. But our Kings and Queens are elected, and Chanyeol is the recently elected King of the area we live in.” 

“Oh,” Taekwoon said, eyes lowering. It might have been Hakyeon’s imagination, but he sounded almost disappointed. He watched as Taekwoon picked studiously at a fraying spot on his jeans, and wondered if Taekwoon had, momentarily, been excited at the prospect of being royalty. All signs pointed to Taekwoon having had a humble upbringing, so it would make sense, for him to ache for something more. 

“Kyungsoo was King of this area, a term ago,” Hakyeon continued, just to keep the conversation going. “He had hoped I’d run for office at some point, but I have little interest in such things.”

“Politics,” Taekwoon mumbled disinterestedly, Hakyeon‘s lips quirked, though Taekwoon did not see it. “What is Chanyeol like?”

Hakyeon cocked his head in thought. “Similar to Kyungsoo, though he is richer in good humor,” he said, and Taekwoon wrinkled his nose.

Hakyeon did not hear Wonshik coming, but he could sense him, moments before he appeared at his side, looming. “Am I acceptable now, master?” Wonshik drawled. 

Hakyeon looked at him, at his neatly styled hair, no hat in sight, eyes skittering over his sweater and jeans, down to his footwear, which was no longer a pair of ugly, clunky sneakers and was now a pair of ugly, clunky boots. Hakyeon sighed heavily. “It’ll do.”

“You’re a pain,” Wonshik muttered, finger lightly brushing the underside of Hakyeon’s jaw in a way that was nothing but fond. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Hakyeon saw Taekwoon quickly look away.

——

Jaehwan thought he should feel guilty, or ashamed, but in truth the only guilt he felt was due to the utter lack of it. Sanghyuk’s hands were broad and warm, gentle everywhere they touched, and Jaehwan was so starved for affection he simply couldn’t bring himself to squirm away. It had been so long since he’d had someone pressed against him, someone he could draw to him without fear of maiming them permanently. Someone who was more than Jaehwan, who was stronger. 

He heard himself whimpering, the sound high and vulnerable, and Sanghyuk crooned at him softly, their breath mingling, lips barely touching. “Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk murmured, voice low and deep. He slipped his hand under the hem of Jaehwan’s shirt, fingers skating over Jaehwan’s lower back, following the dip of his spine. Jaehwan felt the touch like a brand, burning, intense. “Jaehwan, can I—”

Jaehwan jolted, fear striking through him; Sanghyuk’s free hand had come up to touch lightly at the side of his neck. “No,” he gasped, “no, please, I—”

“Ssh, I won’t, ssh,” Sanghyuk whispered, sealing his mouth over Jaehwan’s, coaxing Jaehwan’s lips to part. Jaehwan moaned, the tip of his tongue running lightly over Sanghyuk’s teeth, over the pointed tips of fangs. 

It was so much, too much, not enough. He was so warm, almost uncomfortably so, squirming like he could escape it, claw out of his own skin. The ache between his thighs was sharp and pressing, and his mind shifted to it, the sweet pain of it and the suffocating warmth, Sanghyuk against him fading away, growing dim and distant. Jaehwan didn’t need to open his eyes, let himself surface gradually, settle back into his body, falling lax against his mattress. He did kick his blanket off, because the sweat lay so thickly on him he was damp, making his sleep shirt stick to his back, and he groaned when the cold air of his basement room hit him.

It was unfair. He could not even find peace in sleep, and he was so _tired_. 

He shouldn’t have let Sanghyuk kiss him. It was— it was an idea, a thought that Jaehwan hadn’t let himself consider a possible reality, he’d been desperately trying to keep his mind from wandering down that path. Ever since Sanghyuk had first touched him, since Jaehwan had realized the vampire was beautiful. He’d been trying so hard. 

But the effort was all for naught. Because he’d let Sanghyuk kiss him, soft and tender and almost chaste, and now he could not escape it. It was a reality, a memory cemented in Jaehwan’s mind. The heat of Sanghyuk’s body was addicting and Jaehwan wanted more, though he shied away from the thoughts of where such a road could lead.

Jaehwan didn’t hate vampires the way Taekwoon did, but this still was wrong. 

He pressed his face into his pillow, noted laying fully on his front was unpleasant. The inside of his boxers was sticky, and getting cold. It added insult to injury that he was too weak, too sick, to even manage a proper life, but his body still had enough energy for his dick to function. Maybe he should look at it as a blessing, but he wasn’t in a charitable mood. 

With a fair amount of grumbling Jaehwan got up, shimmying out of his boxers and then using them to wipe off most of the mess between his thighs before tossing them to a far corner of his room. Then he tugged on a fresh pair and some sweatpants, feeling out the house wards to decipher if it was dark out, and if any of the vampires were already hanging around.

The sun was gone from the sky, he concluded, bringing his senses back, but the vampires were not here at present. Jaehwan hoped he would have enough time to take a quick shower before they arrived, because he didn’t want to smell like— this. He didn’t want to wear his shame so obviously. 

When he made his way up to the kitchen, he found the lights on, but the room empty. It felt cold and desolate like this, but Jaehwan wasn’t unused to it. Months prior, it had been a fairly common sensation, to wake into an empty, dark home, Taekwoon and Hongbin out slaking their bloodlust just like the vampires they hunted. 

Their kitchen was rarely messy, but neither was it really clean— it was simply mostly unused, untouched. So when something was new, or out of place, it was striking, and tonight there was a large paper bag sitting on the table. Jaehwan crossed the room to grab at the edge of it, peering inside curiously. 

“It’s the stuff for the spell removal,” a voice said, and Jaehan looked over his shoulder to see Hongbin coming into the room. His dingy socks had muffled the sound of his footsteps. 

“Already?” Jaehwan asked, turning his attention back to the bag and reaching inside. Some of the items were in jars, others tupperware containers, and the smaller, more expensive things were in ziplock bags the size of Jaehwan’s palm. “They came and delivered them and then left again?” He hated that he sounded almost hopeful, while at the same time there was a thread of disappointment in him as well. He wanted to see Sanghyuk. 

He didn’t want to see Sanghyuk.

“No,” Hongbin said as he came to stand at Jaehwan’s side, their shoulders brushing, but Hongbin was wearing a sweatshirt, so it was just the touch of fabric on Jaehwan’s arm. He picked up the little ziplock bag containing two teeth, pulled from a person who ground them in their sleep. Jaehwan snagged it from him, and Hongbin raised an eyebrow at him. “They sent a human, a feeder. He came by a little after noon, having just picked up all— this— at the airport.”

Jaehwan swallowed. A feeder. There was more, he could tell, but Hongbin wasn’t saying it. “I wasn’t expecting to get it all so fast,” Jaehwan said, eyes scanning over everything. It looked like it was all here. “It’s— a lot of it isn’t easy to find, and has to be shipped in from overseas.”

“I get the impression things are a little easier for them. They don’t have to worry about the legality of it all, and they seem to have a fair amount of money,” Hongbin said, the bitterness strong enough that Jaehwan almost tasted it.

“I read an article that said vampires are estimated to hold over sixty percent of the world’s wealth— and some experts think that is a modest guess,” Jaehwan said idly. It made sense, even if it wasn’t fair. And he wasn’t going to complain about it now. It wasn’t like he’d be richer if the vampire’s weren’t, and currently it was coming in handy. “I could do it tonight. Remove the spell.” Jaehwan looked to Hongbin, feeling his pulse jumping with nerves and anticipation. “I could.”

Hongbin just stared back at him, expression flat, eyes searching. “May as well,” he said finally, after Jaehwan had begun to wilt a little. 

“You do want it gone, don’t you? It’s— it’s the only way Taekwoon—” Jaehwan said, only to cut off because Hongbin had shrugged and moved away. The loss of his warmth was unpleasant. 

“Yeah, I do, there’s no point keeping it,” Hongbin said shortly, placing his hands on the edge of the sink and staring out the flat black window. “And maybe with it gone Wonshik will stop— will _stop_.” Hongbin's eyes flashed as they flickered to Jaehwan. “It’s a shame there’s no fix to make Sanghyuk stop.”

Jaehwan felt himself turning red, and he was glad Hongbin couldn’t hear his heart stutter. “I’m— I—” he stammered and Hongbin made a frustrated noise.

“Forget it, forget I said it,” Hongbin said, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. He pushed off from the sink, moving to leave the room. “The feeder brought by some food too, for you, and you should eat, if we’re going to do this tonight. I’m going to change.” 

Jaehwan opened his mouth to call out Hongbin’s name, maybe tell him to stop, wait, but ultimately decided there was nothing he wanted to say. He couldn’t defend his own actions, he knew this was wrong, a bad decision. He knew it added layers to a situation that was already complex and dangerous enough. 

But he was tired, and he was dying, and he just didn’t care anymore.

——

When Taekwoon had first clawed his way out of the suffocating pressure of the damp earth, he remembered the disorienting brightness, the sky impossibly lit up with sparkling silver light, pale indigo rather than robin’s egg blue. 

It was like that now, as Hakyeon led them with quick, silent footsteps through the park, under the open, endless expanse of the sky. Taekwoon felt almost like he was in a dreamscape, or had fallen through a mirror. He could tell it was dark out, even if he hadn’t been able to see the moon in the sky, but it didn’t look like he knew the night to be. The light coming down through the trees made the leaves silvery blue, turned his skin white in its brightness. 

“Taekwoon?” Hakyeon asked, having slowed and turned to look at him. Taekwoon could count his eyelashes, every strand of hair on his head, the sight of him so crisp. He looked even more magical than usual.

“I haven’t been outside since—” Taekwoon said, cutting off, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to form the rest of the words. 

Hakyeon’s eyes shone with reflected moonlight. His expression was as foreign to Taekwoon as the world around him, unreadable. “I’ll slow down for you,” Hakyeon murmured, reaching out as if to grab Taekwoon’s wrist and then apparently thinking better of it. He turned away, moving at a more reasonable pace so Taekwoon could acclimate.

Taekwoon hated that he wished Hakyeon had wrapped those slim fingers around his wrist.

Their feet were silent over the paths, despite the dry leaves underfoot, and Taekwoon let himself drift back a little, watching Hakyeon move. The light almost made it look like they could be underwater, if Taekwoon let himself pretend, and the smooth, graceful way Hakyeon moved only added to the illusion. 

Hakyeon had said he would not push his desires onto Taekwoon, and Taekwoon reflected sourly that no pushing was needed. The desires were there, a disease inside Taekwoon, and he’d already gotten close enough to Hakyeon to have tasted what he had to offer, and he wished he could forget, but he could not. Hakyeon existing in his space was enough to make Taekwoon feel on edge, uncomfortable, and it wasn’t fair on Hakyeon at all, because since Taekwoon had woken up— woken up _dead_ , Hakyeon had given him the respect of space. It was on Taekwoon; Hakyeon made him uncomfortable because Taekwoon still wanted him, was tempted by him, and he knew Hakyeon would yield to such advances.

Taekwoon remembered the mirror, the vision, his body entwined with Hakyeon’s, and felt warmth pool in his belly. If Hakyeon continued thus, gentle, no longer chasing— that would mean it would be Taekwoon who’d break first, who’d slip and give in to this— this festering need under his skin. Hakyeon clearly had control, and other outlets. 

Wonshik was near Taekwoon’s side, because Taekwoon had slowed too much. He sensed Wonshik’s gaze, and Taekwoon quickly looked away from the narrow expanse of Hakyeon’s shoulders and out over the park. 

Taekwoon was better than this. He would get a grip and move past it. 

Hakyeon led them along the park’s trails as they began to slope upwards, towards the hills and the houses there. It was not an area Taekwoon had ever had cause to venture into before— this part of town was wealthy, the properties large and sprawling. The only reason Taekwoon would come here would have been to hunt, but no vampires would bother searching for prey in such a place.

Which was possibly what made having a feeder house out here so ideal. 

They kept to the trees even when they came to the main road, and Taekwoon marvelled at his heightened senses. He could hear heartbeats, in many of the homes they passed, and it dulled his keen awareness of Hakyeon, turning his attention to a different sort of need.

The house they eventually stopped in front of was large, though Taekwoon would not say it was grand. It was two stories and tasteful, simple, grey walls matching a grey gravel drive, vibrantly green grass in the yard despite the cold temperature. There was a tall, black gate surrounding the entire property, and through the bars the house looked slightly distorted, fuzzy, which Taekwoon figured meant there was heavy warding around the building. 

“Come,” Hakyeon murmured, and he leapt easily over the high gate. Taekwoon expected to see him land on the lawn, but he did not. He did not see Hakyeon at all, once his lithe frame had gone beyond the top of the gate. Though if Taekwoon looked very hard, he could almost see a shadow, a ghost, behind the bars.

Wonshik poked him between the shoulder blades. “It’s a spell, a ward,” he rumbled. 

“I know,” Taekwoon said, snappier than he’d intended. He eyed the top of the gate, noted that it was way too high to jump over, and then leapt, feeling the strength in his legs, the power. The jump carried him over the gate, and for the first time he understood, just a bit, what this new body was.

He landed on the grass soundlessly, the shock of his body hitting the ground nothing at all. Then he looked at the house again, saw the windows were lit up, and he could hear the living sounds of many humans beyond the walls.

“You alright?” Hakyeon asked, close at Taekwoon’s side, and Taekwoon knew he wasn’t asking about the wellbeing of his ankles after the jump. Silently, Wonshik joined them, landing on Taekwoon’s other side. 

Taekwoon inhaled. He smelled the grass, recently clipped, and the vague dingy scent of a city, but he couldn’t smell the warmth of a human’s skin, not yet. “Yeah, I’m— it’s not too bad yet,” Taekwoon said. He’d had two blood bags before they’d left, but this was definitely meant as a test. Walking into a home full of humans. He wasn’t sure how his body would react.

He trusted Hakyeon to keep him in control. 

Without letting himself think too much about it, Taekwoon reached out, grabbing Hakyeon’s hand, holding tightly. Hakyeon didn’t react, simply gave Taekwoon’s hand a squeeze in response, and then tugged him up the drive to the front doors, tall and imposing.

Wonshik opened one of the doors, and Hakyeon led Taekwoon into a sprawling entranceway, black marble floors gleaming. Taekwoon blinked up at the chandelier above their heads, the dainty tables pushed up against the walls, the vases that looked hand painted. It was foolish, but Taekwoon felt immediately intimidated.

There was no one there to greet them, but Taekwoon could hear voices, echoing lightly over the stone floors. “This way,” Hakyeon said, and took Taekwoon along a hallway. They passed an archway, Taekwoon catching sight of a grand hearth, low tables and embroidered armchairs. It all screamed of tasteful wealth, and Taekwoon hated it. 

The hallway curved and widened until it opened into a large room filled with oversized leather couches, and more vampires than Taekwoon had ever seen in one place in his entire life. He stopped in his tracks, feeling his anxiety spike. Between them, his hand also tugged Hakyeon to a stop, and Hakyeon looked back at him in question. Taekwoon shook his head, once, just slightly, and let go of Hakyeon’s hand in favor of half-hiding behind him. 

Taekwoon wasn’t human, he didn’t have the predator versus prey instinct warring in him in regards to vampires anymore, but this was still a lot.

When they’d come into the room, the conversation had died off, and all eyes in the room snapped in eerie tandem to look at them. There was a big screen television on some late night soap, the volume turned way down low. It was the only other noise aside from the gentle sound of human breathing, the muted, even beats of their hearts.

“Hakyeon,” Kyungsoo said, smiling in a way that belied nothing other than genuine pleasure, as if just last night he and Hakyeon hadn’t been screaming at one another over Taekwoon. He was perched on the arm of the smaller sofa since all the other seats were taken, looking quite tiny. 

Taekwoon peered around Hakyeon’s head, seeing that two people, humans, very pretty humans, were sitting on the floor as there was nowhere else to sit. Quickly, he counted heads, and barring themselves, there were five vampires, and then three humans. He had no idea which one Chanyeol was. Every vampire was male, and looked young enough in appearance, all wearing clothes that spoke of being wealthy college kids rather than ancient vampires. 

Hakyeon stepped forward, and Taekwoon followed behind him, nervous for reasons he couldn’t fully quantify. “Master,” Hakyeon said, once he reached Kyungsoo’s side, and Kyungsoo reached out and took Hakyeon’s hand. Taekwoon touched his fingertips to Hakyeon’s spine, pressing himself maybe a bit too close, as if he could hide. He could feel his fangs poking out, just a bit, but his anxiety seemed to be keeping the fog at bay for the moment. 

“‘Sup,” Wonshik rumbled, and he maneuvered around the coffee table and the humans sitting on the floor to wedge himself between two vampires on a couch that was already well full. 

“I’m a King’s child, I deserve more respect that this,” the vampire on Wonshik’s left said, the words slightly indistinct around a lisp. He looked like he’d been in his teens when he was turned, skinny as a rail with the petulance of a child. Wonshik responded to his words by leaning more heavily against him, squashing him against the arm of the couch.

“Yes, we’re royal now,” the vampire sitting on the couch beside Kyungsoo said, grinning, his eyes turning into crescents. For a moment Taekwoon thought his fangs were out, but then he realized he simply had sharp canines, making for a snaggly smile. He held his hand out, over Kyungsoo’s body, towards Hakyeon, and wiggled his fingers. “Kiss my rings.” 

After a beat, Hakyeon surprised Taekwoon by grabbing the vampire’s outstretched hand and leaning down, but instead of kissing his knuckles he pressed their faces close and said, “Suck my cock.” 

“Ew,” the snaggly-toothed vampire said, but it was delighted, and he pulled his hand back. Hakyeon straightened, and Taekwoon couldn’t be sure from behind, but he rather thought he was smiling. 

“Minseok, behave,” said the vampire on snaggly-tooth’s — Minseok’s — other side. He was taking up the space of more than one person, lounging back on the couch with his legs drawn up onto the cushions. His voice was surprisingly deep, considering his face. His eyes, uptilted at the corners and wide, flickered to Hakyeon, and he smiled, revealing a lot of teeth. “It is good to see you, Hakyeon.”

Hakyeon didn’t bow, but he did incline his head, and murmured, “Congratulations on your ascension, Chanyeol.”

Taekwoon eyed the apparent King dubiously. Black jeans and a black shirt, a blue denim jacket, black converses with stark white laces— he did not look like any king Taekwoon could have imagined. Though his face was lovely, features delicate and fine, and his hair was richly brown and thick, falling in slight waves. His body spoke of nobility, Taekwoon supposed, but his attire and posture did not.

Chanyeol caught him staring, and Taekwoon looked away immediately, shifting so he was behind Hakyeon properly. 

“Your new child seems shy,” Chanyeol remarked in his distinctive voice, and Taekwoon wanted to shrink away. He didn’t like this place, he didn’t expect he’d have to deal with so many _people_ in death. And he couldn’t think very straight, not with the scent of living humans so heavy in the air, heartbeats pounding in his ears. 

“That might be my fault,” Kyungsoo said apologetically, and Taekwoon didn’t like the idea that Kyungsoo thought he did not like him. It could be paramount, later, to be on Kyungsoo’s good side. 

“Taekwoon is quiet,” Hakyeon said simply. “This is a lot for him.” Taekwoon was absurdly grateful for the words. He didn’t know what was expected of him here, how to behave, what to say. Usually people threw him headfirst into things regardless— but Hakyeon did not seem keen to.

“Also he hasn’t fed, so I imagine that isn’t helping,” Wonshik added, and Taekwoon was surprised by it, by Wonshik being on his side the same way as Hakyeon. For a second, a flash, his surprise made him feel oddly ashamed.

“He’s got good control, isn’t he only four nights old?” one of the vampires on the other couch remarked. Taekwoon didn’t look to see who, trying to keep his eyes on the mole on the back of Hakyeon’s neck, but then Hakyeon was moving. Rather, he was being tugged by the wrist away from Taekwoon towards the other couch, by a vampire with a kittenish mouth. “He has to show himself sometime.”

“Yes, I want to see,” Minseok said, leaning forward again and slipping one of his fingers into Taekwoon’s belt loop, stopping him from following Hakyeon. Minseok was half over Kyungsoo’s lap, peering up at Taekwoon keenly, and Taekwoon fought not to fidget, glowering. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, feeling self conscious for all that he had no idea what they were even looking for in him.

“He’s pretty,” said the vampire with the kittenish mouth, smirking, and were Taekwoon still human, he definitely would have blushed. Minseok’s grin widened, and Taekwoon’s eyes skittered away from him desperately to look at Hakyeon. 

For his part Hakyeon simply looked slightly put-upon, squinting down at the vampire who’d paid Taekwoon the— the compliment. “Be careful, Jongdae,” he murmured, and Jongdae pouted in a way that was decidedly mocking.

“What? It’s an observation— I have _eyes_ , as do we all,” Jongdae said, his pout dissolving as he was unable to hold back a grin. He let Hakyeon’s wrist go in favor of looking to the human squashed onto the couch at his side. “Don’t you think he’s pretty, Junmyeon?”

“He’s pretty,” the human called Junmyeon agreed, sinking back further into the couch, as if he wanted to disappear, and Taekwoon echoed that sentiment. Of the three humans in the room, he was the plainest— and his heart was the one making the most noise, galloping hard enough to nearly drown out the sound of the other two. Taekwoon was inclined to think he wasn’t a feeder.

“Pretty and tall.” Taekwoon felt Minseok tugging on his belt loop, and Taekwoon mustered his courage and looked down, scowling for good measure. His glare only made Minseok smile wider. “He’s fangy too,” Minseok remarked, sounding far too pleased, and Taekwoon slapped a hand over his own mouth, stepping back. Minseok let him go, smile all teeth, and Jongdae was snickering.

“Jongdae,” Chanyeol said lazily, his voice deepening with the lowered volume. Jongdae immediately subsided. “Minseok. Enough with the juvenile antics or I’ll have you put in the cellar until you recall your manners.” Minseok pressed his lips together to suppress his smile. 

“Speaking of manners,” Kyungsoo said, and he looked up at Taekwoon, seeming all the smaller for his position on the arm of the couch. Taekwoon eyed him warily, wondering what vampire courtesies he might be subjected to. Kyungsoo’s eyelashes were so long, eyes large and gentle, and he touched Taekwoon’s elbow softly, encouraging him to lower his hand, uncover his mouth. “Little one,” Kyungsoo said, and the lispy vampire made a small sniggering sound that Kyungsoo studiously ignored in favor of motioning over Minseok’s head and at Chanyeol. “This is my slightly-older brother, and recently elected King of the area we reside in, Chanyeol.” 

Introductions. Taekwoon’s eyes skittered over Chanyeol’s frame, and he nodded at the new king. He had no idea what to say. “Hello,” Taekwoon murmured, experimental, and Chanyeol’s eyebrow quirked at the soft tone of his voice. Taekwoon knew it wasn’t what people normally expected, given his face and height. 

“Oh, it makes so much more sense now,” Jongdae breathed. 

Kyungsoo’s hand moved, touching Minseok’s shoulder. “This is Minseok, Chanyeol’s right hand man. He is not blood related and so utterly disposable,” Kyungsoo continued, voice pleasant. Minseok made a small noise of affront.

“Not _utterly_ disposable,” Chanyeol rumbled, “just partially.” To Taekwoon’s utter surprise, Minseok pinched at Chanyeol’s thigh, and Chanyeol grinned. 

Kyungsoo’s mild expression split into a smile as he watched the exchange, and then he gestured to the other couch, starting on the left, where the frightened human was wedged, Hakyeon looming above him and Jongdae pressed along his other side. “That is Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo said, and Junmyeon startled a little, like he hadn’t expected to be included in the introductions. “He is our accountant, of sorts, and one of our day-runners.” 

“Hi,” Junmyeon said, smiling thinly. “It’s good to meet you.” He did not look like an accountant, Taekwoon thought, in faded jeans and a fleece lined brown leather jacket, but perhaps this was an off night for him. Also, what did Taekwoon know of accountants, really. He’d always been too poor to ever warrant one.

“Beside him is Jongdae,” Kyungsoo continued, not giving Taekwoon a chance to reply amidst his thoughts. Jongdae gave a little wave, then brought that same hand down on Junmyeon’s knee, seemingly to just see the human flinch. “Jongdae is— we’ll say the manager of this place.”

“And also disposable,” Junmyeon hissed, prying Jongdae’s hand off his leg and glaring, while Jongdae just smirked at him. 

Kyungsoo bypassed Wonshik, sitting beside Jongdae, to the final vampire sitting on the other end of the couch. “And that is Sehun, Chanyeol’s child,” Kyungsoo said. Sehun didn’t respond, picking sullenly at a seam on the arm of the couch. “He is angry because your existence means he owes me money. You may ignore him.”

Taekwoon absorbed that, wondering what exactly it meant, but decided he did not want to ask. His eyes fell on the pair of humans sitting on the floor. Thus far, while they’d clearly been paying attention, neither of these humans had spoken. “And them?” he murmured.

“Ah,” Kyungsoo said, raising his hand again for he had let it drop back to his own lap. He motioned to the paler human, dressed in a light grey sweater that looked to be cashmere, leaning against the couch next to Chanyeol’s legs. He was pretty in a vague, inoffensive way, that reminded Taekwoon of Sehun, but the human was much smaller, for all that he also looked to be a bit older. “This is Baekhyun, he’s Chanyeol’s human,” Kyungsoo said, and Taekwoon felt a little frisson of shock run through him. He knew it was— a thing, personal feeders, humans kept as lovers and a source of blood. It was, in a way, what the humans employed here were, the ones Taekwoon had fed on thus far. But it was so strange, and almost upsetting, to Taekwoon, to hear a person described in such a way. Property of a vampire. 

But Baekhyun did not seem to mind. He bestowed a cheerful smile on Taekwoon, and Chanyeol reached out, smoothing his palm over the back of Baekhyun’s head in a motion that was very fond. It was then that Taekwoon noted the bite marks peeking out of the edge of Baekhyun’s sweater. 

“And then this is Jongin,” Kyungsoo said, gesturing at the human sitting beside Baekhyun, his elbows on the coffee table, posture bored. “He’s mine.”

Taekwoon kept himself still, rather than reacting or speaking. It seemed easier. Jongin was very beautiful, one of the prettier people Taekwoon had ever seen, with deeply tanned skin and full lips. Taekwoon wondered if one day he would be desensitized enough that this wouldn’t feel uncomfortable to him, wondered if he’d get beyond even that. Wondered if he’d ever take a human on as his own. 

“I also manage this place during the day, and run other errands too,” Jongin said, voice not quite as deep as Chanyeol’s or Wonshik’s but surprising Taekwoon all the same. He looked up and up at Taekwoon from his place on the floor, somehow making it look like a reasonable place to be sitting. There was an easy sort of grace to him, that reminded Taekwoon of Hakyeon, a little. “I went to your home, today, to make a delivery to your friends. The other hunters.”

Taekwoon blinked, stomach swooping, and he looked to Hakyeon. He didn’t know what to say. 

Kyungsoo looked sharply at Jongin. “You didn’t tell me that,” he said.

Jongin shrugged, still affecting an expression of boredom. “It was mostly a delivery of food. Sanghyuk told me to.”

Wonshik made a noise that might have been a laugh, and Jongdae put a hand over his heart. “Our hard-earned money,” Jongdae lamented, “going to feed hunters.” 

“Retired hunters, I trust,” Minseok said, and though his expression remained impish, eyes twinkling, there was an edge of sharpened steel in his voice. Taekwoon had always been good at controlling his expression, but he could feel his mouth twist, just a little, and knew in combination of his fangs it was an unpleasant sight. The fog was thick in his mind, heartbeats loud in his ears, and the anger that swelled inside him was unexpected and possibly disproportionate. 

“This one isn’t retired,” Sehun’s said, voice piercing through the fog of Taekwoon’s mind, the ache in his mouth, and Taekwoon snapped to glower at him, found the other vampire staring thoughtfully at him. Taekwoon wasn’t sure of the extent of the implications, or the possible repercussions. His loyalties had shifted a bit, but he had not changed at his core. He had not become the vampires he’d killed in the past, and he was not entirely sure of his present company. Sehun shifted his gaze to Hakyeon, eyebrow quirking. “What is it with you and hunters?”

None of the vampires reacted to that, but Taekwoon heard Baekhyun’s breath catch, and Junmyeon’s heart stutter. Taekwoon looked from Sehun to Hakyeon, still glowering, but there was confusion in his frown now. He did not know what Sehun was getting at, but he knew better than to ask Hakyeon for clarification right now.

“Taekwoon isn’t a hunter anymore,” Hakyeon said, both his tone and expression cool. It gave the definite impression that the entire conversation was being summarily dismissed. Taekwoon was slightly in awe of it, of the authority Hakyeon seemed to have just shrugged on like a well-tailored coat. He watched as Hakyeon took the step to Taekwoon’s side, wrapping his hand around Taekwoon’s forearm, eyes sweeping over the lot of them disinterestedly before landing to rest on Kyungsoo. “I need to get him fed before anything more, having him sit here amongst humans would be cruel. Is there anyone left for him?”

Kyungsoo stared back at Hakyeon for a pause that went on just long enough to be noticeable. “Yes,” Kyungsoo finally said. “There is one. Jongdae.”

Taekwoon’s frown deepened in further confusion because Jongdae was a vampire, not a human feeder, before he realized Kyungsoo had been giving an order. Jongdae stood wordlessly, and left the room. Taekwoon looked around, at Sehun who’d gone back to looking bored, Minseok picking at his nails, and Wonshik boring holes into Hakyeon with his gaze. It became apparent that they were waiting for Jongdae to come back with the feeder, whoever it was, and panic spiked mildly in Taekwoon’s chest. He pressed to Hakyeon’s side, nose brushing Hakyeon’s ear as he whispered, “Not here. Please.” It was a futile effort to keep the others from hearing.

“Here, please,” Minseok said, grinning again, all tension seemingly forgotten, and he abandoned picking at his cuticles in favor of swiping at Taekwoon, trying to grab a belt loop again, but Taekwoon stepped out of his reach. Chanyeol kicked gently at Minseok’s side, and Kyungsoo slipped off the arm of the couch, breezing past Taekwoon to grasp Hakyeon’s hand.

“Come,” Kyungsoo murmured, and he pulled Hakyeon, who in turn pulled Taekwoon, out of the room in the same direction Jongdae had gone. Taekwoon looked to the floor as they went, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. It wasn’t shameful to them, he knew, he _knew_ , but it all just felt like too much, and once they were out of the room and into the hall, Taekwoon felt like he might melt from the sudden loss of tension.

Kyungsoo took them back the way they’d come, passing through the entranceway and then down the opposite hall. This one led to doors, and Kyungsoo picked one and pulled it open, ushering them inside. Taekwoon stuttered, a little, when he went in, because this room was— different. It was still very much obnoxiously like a page out of a magazine, but rather than _modest aristocrat_ , this one screamed more, _retired cowboy who’d won the lottery_. He’d seen fake bear rugs in Walmart, but he was pretty sure the one on the floor of this room wasn’t fake. 

Taekwoon might have opted to remain standing, but Kyungsoo pushed at his shoulder, and Taekwoon took the hint and sat on the plush couch. With the sudden quiet, and the knowledge that soon there would be a human against him, blood in his mouth, the fog was taking Taekwoon, seductive and thick. It was almost a relief.

Hakyeon moved to stand by the empty fireplace, hands braced against the sturdy wood of the mantelpiece as he stared into the darkness of unlit hearth. He was as sharp as Taekwoon currently was soft, looking very much like the vampire Taekwoon had been frightened of when he was human. There was an edge to him now Taekwoon did not like, his shoulders held stiffly, spine rigid. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Taekwoon asked quietly. He’d never been the best at people, at social interactions, and having the added level of trying to maneuver around vampire politicians seemed nearly impossible for him. In the past he had always simply skulked in the backdrop and stayed as quiet as possible in these sorts of situations, knowing such silence could be interpreted as rude, but more often simply got him labelled as broody, which was preferable. And as a vampire now, surely it would be even more expected of him to be dark and tormented. 

Hakyeon half-turned, one of his hands dropping from the mantel as he looked at Taekwoon. Though Hakyeon was still— a shade of what Taekwoon knew, a sliver of something steely and cold, his eyes held no malice when they met Taekwoon’s. “No, kitten,” he murmured, tone soothing. “You did nothing wrong.”

Taekwoon was relieved by that, for reasons he couldn’t even quantify, but he frowned nonetheless, trying to understand everything through the fog, trying to piece together the picture when it was all insubstantial. Perhaps it was not him, no, but the other vampire— Sehun, his name was, Sehun—

“He said something about hunters,” Taekwoon said thickly, shaking his head and closing his eyes, like he could rattle the important thoughts to the front of his mind. He could not, it did nothing to chase out the buzzing. His mouth felt clumsy, full with his fangs run out. It was so hard to concentrate.

Hakyeon turned his gaze on Kyungsoo, expression dark, and the two of them shared a look thick with things unsaid. Taekwoon looked between them, leaning forward in his seat, and he might have said something else, if he could make his mouth form words, but there was a sharp knock at the door. His head snapped to the side, the sound of Kyungsoo saying _come in_ echoing faintly as the door parted, letting in the heady sound of a heartbeat like a sudden flood. 

Jongdae came in first, eyebrow quirked, and behind him was a girl that was almost of a height with him. She was dressed casually, in pale blue sweatpants and a sweatshirt that matched, bare feet sticking slightly to the wooden floor as she walked. Taekwoon stilled, stopped breathing, watching her chest rise and fall, her eyes sweeping over him cooly. The couch indented on Taekwoon’s other side, Hakyeon coming to sit beside him, presumably, but Taekwoon didn’t turn to see. Kyungsoo was talking, shooing Jongdae away, and the other vampire gave a mocking bow and retreated from the room.

“You’re not giving him a buffer tonight?” Hakyeon said, and Taekwoon heard him as from underwater. 

The girl’s throat moved as she swallowed nervously. Taekwoon shifted, not getting up, but poised to move, though he stopped himself actually following through. 

Kyungsoo touched the girl’s elbow and she startled a little, her eyes finally leaving Taekwoon. “He needs to be weaned at some point,” Kyungsoo was saying, and then he murmured to the girl. For a flicker, she bit her lip, fear showing clearly in her eyes, and it occurred to Taekwoon he should maybe try to look less like a starving monster. But then her fear was gone, expression smoothing out into placidity as she reached for the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it deftly over her head. Underneath she was wearing a black tank top that showed off her figure much more prettily than the baggy sweatshirt, which she tossed over the back of the nearest armchair. Taekwoon was aware of himself enough to know if he were still human he’d be blushing. She was pretty, prettier than any girl who had ever bothered to look his way before, with a smooth jawline and heavy-lidded eyes.

There was a pause— perhaps she was waiting for orders, or simply waiting for Taekwoon to make a move. When he remained sitting rigidly on the sofa, she came and sat next to him, motions deliberate. Her posture wasn’t stiff, but it was prim, as she settled at his side, her thigh knocking against his. Then she simply gazed at him, clearly expectant. At least she hadn’t sat on his lap, like the boy from the previous night, though that, in ways, had made the whole process easier. 

Surrendering his mortification, as well as the rest of his lucidity, to the fog would make this whole thing less painful for him, but he knew if he let the fog claim him utterly he would not be able to stop. And he needed to learn control. So he grit his teeth, reaching out and sweeping her vibrantly auburn hair to one side, revealing the side of her pale, smooth neck, the transition to her shoulder, barely broken up by the strap of her top. There were spots on her, faded and slightly shiny, that denoted previous bite wounds. It did nothing to deter Taekwoon, only made him ache all the more. He let his hand come to rest on the curve of her shoulder, feeling her warmth, her smallness, and she shivered a little but didn’t pull away. He knew he was cold. He wished he wasn’t.

She tilted her head to the side, her hair falling further away from the side of her neck, and murmured, “It’s okay.” Taekwoon felt a spike of guilt at that, because surely he should be the one doing the comforting. “Come here.” She grabbed him by the edges of his cardigan, tugging gently, leaning back against the decorative throw pillows as she did so. The motion drew Taekwoon over her body, her scent— the acidity of floral soaps, the sweetness of human skin— 

Taekwoon felt his lips part on an involuntary sigh, and he edged his hand over, carefully pushing his fingertips under the strap of her tank top, her bra, moving them off her shoulder until they were hanging over her upper arm. There was so much skin filling his vision, and she was so soft against his lips when he lowered his face to the junction of her neck. He was trying not to grip her shoulder too hard, his other hand clenched in the cushion at the back of the sofa to compensate.

He made a sound when he bit her, he couldn’t help it, and the embarrassment was washed away by the heat in his mouth, the sharp tang of blood threatening to draw the fog in to consume him. She had her hands on his shoulders, arching a little because she was squirming. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and Taekwoon did not like that he noted the sensation, that it made heat pool between his legs. This was familiar, embarrassing but not shameful. Touching girls was so much simpler, and he pressed more heavily against her, enjoying the delicateness of her frame against his.

There was a hand, a decidedly not-small hand, on his knee, pressing, and Taekwoon knew it was Hakyeon, and his touch was like an anchor. Taekwoon made a conscious effort to slow down, letting the blood flow into his mouth rather than deliberately drawing it out. Her chest was heaving against his, the feeling of her fluttering heart pressed to his own ribs. 

“I never know when to stop,” Taekwoon mumbled, lips grazing the wounds he’d made; two pretty little puncture marks in her smooth skin. Taekwoon pulled back enough to look at them, hand coming up so he could press a fingertip to one lightly, smearing blood on himself. She gasped at the pressure and he withdrew.

“Now would be fine,” Kyungsoo said, maybe a little tartly, and Taekwoon blinked, trying to settle back into his own head, feeling adrift as he always did when he’d fed. Adrift and warm. Kyungsoo grabbed the girl by her upper arm and smoothly slid her out from under Taekwoon, efficiently making sure she could hold her own footing before he released her. 

She grabbed her sweatshirt as Kyungsoo led her out, and gave Taekwoon one backwards glance and a gentle smile before she was gone. Taekwoon was left sitting there, still blinking. 

“Kitten,” Hakyeon sighed, his hand pressing on Taekwoon’s shoulder to get his attention. 

Taekwoon turned to him, feeling so very fuzzy, but in a different way than before, and Hakyeon carefully dabbed at Taekwoon’s mouth with a tissue, cleaning up any residual mess. Wordlessly, Taekwoon held up his hand, the finger with the blood smear on it, and before Hakyeon could move to wipe at it, Taekwoon had pressed his finger against Hakyeon’s lips, because it seemed right, it seemed like it made sense.

For a beat, Hakyeon stilled, and then he stiffly grabbed Taekwoon’s wrist, pulling Taekwoon’s hand away from his face and swiping at it with the tissue. Taekwoon had left a blood smear on his lips, and after Hakyeon was done wiping at Taekwoon’s fingertips, he wiped the blood off his own mouth as well.

Taekwoon snapped back into himself, like a car shifting into gear, and he shook his head sharply, pulling his hand back to himself. His blood-drunk brain had anticipated the soft, damp touch of Hakyeon’s tongue on his fingertips, like before, and that was— no. “I’m sorry,” he said, eyes trained on his own knees. “I shouldn’t— I didn’t— I’m sorry.” He moved his cardigan, so the long length of fabric at the front pooled over his crotch, hiding the slight bulge there.

Kyungsoo came back into vision, standing in front of Taekwoon with an arched eyebrow as he looked between him and Hakyeon, clearly wondering what Taekwoon was apologizing for. Taekwoon wasn’t about to explain, and Hakyeon simply murmured, “You’re out of it, kitten, you can rest here.” He tossed the bloodied tissue onto the coffee table in a crumpled ball and then rose to his feet. The icy veneer was clicking back into place over Hakyeon, like a suit of armour. 

Taekwoon did feel out of it, sleepy, and so very warm, the heat spreading and tingling from his core pleasantly. He knew his cheeks were probably red, flushed from feeding. In ways, he realized, it was like the languid afterglow of an orgasm. 

He wanted to be alone, to collect himself, try and figure out how to not make so much of an ass of himself in the future. Both in front of Hakyeon, and in front of the strangers waiting for them in the rooms beyond this one. 

“Go back out to the others,” Kyungsoo said to Hakyeon, a hand resting familiarly on Hakyeon’s lower back. “I want to talk to Taekwoon in private, just for a moment, and our guests will soon grow restless.” 

Hakyeon looked sharply at Kyungsoo, even as Taekwoon’s stomach dropped. Not even the lovely glow left from feeding could stop the spike of dread. “Kyungsoo,” Hakyeon said softly, almost dangerous.

“Child,” Kyungsoo said, eyebrow still quirked. “He is my blood too, and I simply wish to speak with him. And I would think that you might, perhaps, wish to exchange some words with the others, while I am not present.”

Shutters came down over Hakyeon’s eyes. He looked to Taekwoon, as if asking for his thoughts, but all Taekwoon could do was give a one-shouldered shrug. The fear was thick in him; he didn’t want to speak to Kyungsoo alone, but refusing seemed like a bad move.

Politics, Taekwoon had said with derision. But that was what this was, and he needed to learn how to play the game, as Kyungsoo had told him. 

“Whatever you say to him, I shall know of it,” Hakyeon said tersely, but he left after levelling one last cool look at Kyungsoo, moving more jerkily than usual, his normal grace lost under his upset, apparently.

Taekwoon was surprised at so easily being left with the wolves, so to speak. But then, Kyungsoo was Hakyeon’s maker, and despite everything he had witnessed so far, he supposed it did seem like there was a modicum of trust between them. 

Kyungsoo, seemingly unperturbed by Hakyeon’s declaration, sat beside Taekwoon in the spot Hakyeon had just vacated, though he left a serviceable amount of space between their bodies. Taekwoon got the impression it was to make him seem less threatening, with Taekwoon now having to look down at him, Kyungsoo half his size— but it did nothing to make Kyungsoo seem less than. His aura was heavy with his age, even if his face looked like that of a teenage choir boy. 

“I’m not at my best right now,” Taekwoon offered softly, mouth full around the words because his fangs were still out. He made a deliberate effort to draw them back in, pleased when he could, when he found his teeth all blunt again. 

Kyungsoo waved the remark away idly, then moved as if he was going to place his hand on Taekwoon’s forearm, before apparently thinking better of it. Playacting parental would not get him far, and he was perceptive enough to realize it. “I only wanted to speak to you of last night,” Kyungsoo said. Taekwoon had nothing to say in reply to that, let his trademark silence hang between them. After a pause, Kyungsoo continued. “I wanted to know, now that you are not facing the guilt of Hakyeon’s tears, if you truly meant it when you said you wanted to stay here.”

Taekwoon fought not to frown in distrust, to remain blank. He focused on the heat in his cheeks to distract himself, the delicate prickling of sweat beading on his forehead beneath his fringe. “Yes,” he whispered. It was all he wanted to give.

Kyungsoo’s gaze was piercing. “You want to stay,” he said slowly. “Is it to be with him? Or is it to be nearer to your old friends?”

Could it not be both, he wondered, meeting Kyungsoo’s dark eyes. No, he knew, it could not be both— he could not have divided loyalties in this world. 

At the least, he could not let Kyungsoo know of it. 

“You want me out of the way,” Taekwoon said, and Kyungsoo’s mouth twisted unhappily. 

“Not so.” Kyungsoo shifted, facing Taekwoon a bit better, and Taekwoon moved to do the same, their knees knocking together. “You simply have to understand— I do not know you, and it seems Hakyeon only knows you partially. And yet, in turning you, in accepting you as blood, that took your actions on as an extension of us.” Kyungsoo’s voice was grim. “You could destroy our lives.”

Taekwoon didn’t know what to say. Words were always so difficult. He hadn’t realized— the implications taken on, between maker and child, between bloodlines. The pressure of it. He opened his mouth, plucking the words carefully. “Surely any actions that ruined your lives, would ruin mine too,” he said slowly. And Jaehwan’s, and Hongbin’s. But he did not need to say that. “I’m rather invested in avoiding self-sabotage.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to laugh. His entire life thus far has been an exercise in self-sabotage. But, he supposed, before, his life had a definite, solid end rapidly approaching. Now, anything he did could be held against him, quite literally, for eternity. Behaving seemed like a better option, if not just for his sake, then for Jaehwan and Hongbin. And Hakyeon. 

Taekwoon was tired of being miserable and afraid. It was all his human life had consisted of, for the most part. He so wanted something better. 

“Hakyeon said your brother was killed by a nest,” Kyungsoo said, careful, so careful.

Taekwoon felt the ripple of his muscles tensing up, running through every part of him like a wave. He clenched his fists atop his thighs, unable to stop himself. Hakyeon hadn’t— he should not have said it. Taekwoon knew it wasn’t _his_ secret, not exactly, not when it could be so easily found, public knowledge. He wasn’t angry, per se, but he didn’t like it, didn’t like it being thrown in his face.

Kyungsoo noticed his tension, eyes flickering down then back to Taekwoon’s face. “You’re still a hunter, deep down,” he said, and it was simple, for all that it was damning. 

Taekwoon’s nails were biting into his palms, and he willed himself to relax. “My brother’s death shaped my entire life,” he said, jaw clenched and lips barely moving. He felt like he was forcing the words out, like trying to get gravel through steel mesh. This wasn’t— it was so much of Taekwoon, so central to the core of him, and Kyungsoo had no business seeing into Taekwoon’s heart. It was something he could hardly share even with Jaehwan, who had known him since they both were small. “I became a vampire in a night, my body is changed, but my mind is still my own. It is that of a hunter, yes.” He was glaring without even meaning to. “But that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

Surprisingly, Kyungsoo’s lips quirked. “Hakyeon would not turn a fool, no,” he murmured. He reached up then, his small hand cupping Taekwoon’s cheek, skin cool against Taekwoon’s flush. “Not even one he loves.” Taekwoon stilled, freezing, more like, and Kyungsoo sighed, his hand dropping. “I do not want you to be afraid of me, Taekwoon— I am many things but I would never harm my own blood, emotionally nor physically.”

Taekwoon could not keep up, not when the notion of Hakyeon loving him was so casually thrown in his face. He did not like that idea, on the surface; his gut reaction was to recoil away.

And yet another part of him positively revelled in it, that he had Hakyeon’s heart, that he had some modicum of power. That Hakyeon still wanted him. That Taekwoon wasn’t utterly alone.

“Taekwoon,” Kyungsoo said, a little sharp, and Taekwoon snapped to look at him, shivering as he remembered his body. Kyungsoo was scowling. “Did you hear me?”

“You won’t hurt me,” Taekwoon intoned dutifully.

Kyungsoo’s mouth grew pinched. “Yes, though I would like to think I sounded more convincing.” He sighed again, standing up and putting his hand down on Taekwoon’s shoulder when Taekwoon made to do the same. “You need to rest, you can stay here until you feel more alert.” His hand slipped off Taekwoon’s shoulder, slow, almost intimate. Taekwoon refrained from saying he already felt more alert; he did want some time alone, to process. 

“Alright,” Taekwoon whispered.

Kyungsoo regarded him thoughtfully. “Were you telling the truth?” he asked, and Taekwoon raised an eyebrow at him in question, craning his neck. “When you said you trusted Hakyeon.”

This was a dangerous question. “I trust him as much as I think someone like me can trust anyone,” Taekwoon said slowly, keeping as much of himself out of his eyes as he could. It was as honest as he could be, and once again he reflected sourly how much he hated having to be so candid with someone he barely knew. 

However, despite the non-answer, Kyungsoo seemed satisfied. He left without pressing any further, mechanically informing Taekwoon that when he felt up to it, he could rejoin them in the large living room.

Once alone, Taekwoon unzipped his boots and toed them off, bringing his legs up onto the couch and a pillow onto his lap to clutch to himself. This pillow smelled like the girl, like spring flowers, and Taekwoon stuck his face in it, inhaling for comfort, but it brought none. 

——

Sanghyuk could smell the magic as soon as he stepped onto the front lawn of the hunters’ house. The air hummed with it, a steady sort of pressure, but it still made Sanghyuk uneasy. Jaehwan had started without him.

There was no point knocking on the front door, Sanghyuk could hear heartbeats loudly enough to indicate the humans were outside. He showed himself to the backyard, vindicated to see that yes, they were outside, and they had started a while ago. Both Jaehwan and Hongbin sat facing one another on the gritty concrete slab that took up half the yard, but where Jaehwan was suitably bundled up in an unattractive puffy coat and scarf, Hongbin was shirtless and only clad in a pair of jeans. He looked quite cold. A drawn circle surrounded both of them, while under their legs were more drawn lines, crisscrossing in shapes Sanghyuk could vaguely identify. At the perimeter of the circle, on the compass’s fours points, sat a lit candle, a bowl of salt, a bowl of water, and a bowl that was smoking heavily. Sanghyuk stayed upwind of the smoke. He’d done his reading. He knew what to expect here, to a degree. 

Jaehwan’s eyes flickered to Sanghyuk as he approached, but he looked away almost as fast, face passive. If Sanghyuk hadn’t heard the way his heart sped up, he might have thought Jaehwan was dismissive, but he knew better. Sanghyuk felt his lips quirk, though he held the smile back from blooming fully. He liked that he had this effect on Jaehwan.

“Don’t come into the circle,” Jaehwan said tersely, not looking at him. 

Sanghyuk knelt down beside Jaehwan, the tips of his shoes just shy of the circle’s edge. He heard Jaehwan’s heart skip a beat and then gallop all the faster, but none of Jaehwan’s emotions showed on his face, his eyes not wavering from the concoction he was stirring steadily. His cheeks were very pink, but so was the tip of his nose, and it could easily be put down to the biting cold. Sanghyuk’s eyes were drawn over his profile, the way his pale lashes glittered in the moonlight, the smooth slope of his nose, the soft pout of his mouth. Jaehwan’s lips were so very full, and Sanghyuk knew they were warm and giving, knew the taste of them. 

He hoped this went quickly. He wanted to get Jaehwan alone again.

Jaehwan’s cheeks and ears grew steadily redder under Sanghyuk’s scrutiny, though he stubbornly did not look at Sanghyuk, so it wasn’t just the cold after all. Sanghyuk grinned, and Jaehwan’s breathing hitched. 

Hongbin, whose eyes had been closed, opened one just to slit a glare at Sanghyuk, as if him being shirtless in such miserable conditions was something to blame him for. Sanghyuk felt a bit of pity for him, his whole chest was blotchy pink, stinging from the cold no doubt. His nipples were especially red. They might fall off. Sanghyuk rather thought Wonshik would be put out if that happened.

“Hello,” Sanghyuk said to Hongbin, pointedly looking up from his chest and grinning widely, and Hongbin made a low noise in the back of his throat and shut his eyes once more, mouth pinched. Sanghyuk looked back to Jaehwan, the austere line of his profile, his brows slightly bunched in concentration. “I take it all the ingredients were satisfactory?”

“If they weren’t, I wouldn’t be doing this,” Jaehwan said, rather shortly. Then he pressed his lips together, eyes flickering over to Sanghyuk and away again to his potion. He added in a murmur that was soft around the edges, “Thank you.”

Sanghyuk wanted to reach out and touch the sharp line of Jaehwan’s cheekbone, but he knew that if he came into the circle Jaehwan would probably stab him with the glass stirrer he was holding, so Sanghyuk refrained. Instead he looked down at the bowl that sat between Hongbin and Jaehwan, the mixture inside a gloppy, muddy sort of thing. Then his eyes caught on Hongbin’s hands, settled in his lap, his fingers curled around a wilted, damp sprig of what looked like watercress. 

Sanghyuk frowned. “What is that for?” he asked, nodding at the plant. He hadn’t come across anything in his books about watercress being necessary for this particular spell.

Jaehwan inhaled grandly and then exhaled, as if Sanghyuk’s questions were a great burden. The action made Sanghyuk feel disproportionately fond. “For my own peace of mind,” Jaehwan said. Sanghyuk wondered at that, at Jaehwan tinkering with things. “Would you—” Jaehwan started, then stopped.

“Yes,” Sanghyuk said, not really caring what the rest of the request was going to be.

Sanghyuk didn’t think he imagined the tips of Jaehwan’s ears growing pinker, the corners of his lips twitching. “The notebook behind me, please use it to fan the smoke from that bowl towards Hongbin,” Jaehwan said stiffly.

Hongbin groaned. “It smells like shit,” he said, as Sanghyuk readily picked the notebook up. It was covered in Jaehwan’s scrawl, the enthusiastic notations of a boy in love with his craft. Sanghyuk obligingly used it to persuade the smoke to waft at Hongbin.

“I think it is shit,” Sanghyuk cheerfully. According to his own research, the stuff burning in the bowl was in fact skunk scat. Probably with something unobtrusive, like dry pine needles, to keep it burning more easily. 

Hongbin was grinding his teeth; Sanghyuk could hear it. “Hurry and finish, will you,” Hongbin muttered. His eyes opened, staring at Jaehwan across from him. “I don’t remember the original casting being this miserable. I’m going to get frostbite.”

“Unlucky for you that Taekwoon was turned in the winter,” Jaehwan said shortly, but he lacked any real annoyance in his tone. He set the glass stirrer aside and picked the bowl up, dipping a fingertip into the muddy mixture and then dotting it onto Hongbin’s forehead, then his chin, then in a line down his neck and chest. He’d begun to mutter as he did so, words Sanghyuk didn’t know, that even his vampire hearing couldn’t catch. They weren’t meant to be heard. 

Jaehwan laid lines of dots carefully down Hongbin’s arms. Here and there he’d add a slash, his eyes dropped to half mast. As Sanghyuk watched Jaehwan move, he slowly forgot he was on fan duty, falling still. His focus was drawn, almost mesmerized, to the delicate bones that jutted from Jaehwan’s wrists, the veins that stood out starkly over the tendons on the backs of his hands. If Sanghyuk listened, really listened, then under the whisper of the breeze amongst the leaves, the grass, and the sound of the pounding of hearts, Sanghyuk could hear the gentle susurration of blood beneath Jaehwan’s pale skin. 

Jaehwan brought his hand back, cupping the bowl near his own chest, face tilted down as he continued his whispered spell. His blinks were growing longer, and his head kept bobbing, like he was falling asleep even as his lips continued to form words quickly. Sanghyuk could feel the magic swelling, and he put the notebook down on the concrete beside himself, already anticipating this turning unpleasant. Jaehwan’s face was practically in the bowl, hung down so far, and when the circle suddenly glowed brightly, the dots on Hongbin’s skin lit up with it. 

It only lasted for a moment, a brief flare, almost like a camera flash. Then it winked out, and Jaehwan toppled to the side. 

——

“I’m sorry about Sehun,” Chanyeol murmured, his voice rumbling like a storm rolling in from the horizon. “He should know better.” 

Hakyeon shrugged, sighing. The scent of chlorine was sharp in his nose. “I don’t appreciate the jab, but it is more the fact that I don’t like the idea of dissent in the ranks,” he said simply. Always aware of the layers to things, he added smoothly, “But Sehun is still young.”

Chanyeol snorted. “Sehun’s a shit, you can say it.” He knelt by the edge of the pool, touching his fingertips to the water. “Baekhyun is too, to be honest. I seem to have a type.”

 _As do I_ , Hakyeon thought bitterly, but he did not say it. He watched the ripples radiating from Chanyeol’s fingers, followed them to the other side of the pool. Hakyeon hadn’t been sure as to the point of installing a pool at all, let alone one so big, but he supposed even if their guests did not make use of it, the feeders could during the day. He suspected it was mostly for Kyungsoo’s sake, to feel like he’d spared no expense. Hakyeon eyed the far end of the pool, where the wall gave way to polished rocks, emulating a natural creek and small waterfall. He rolled his eyes.

“Kyungsoo wanted me to take Taekwoon, you know,” Chanyeol said idly, and Hakyeon looked down in mild alarm, at the crown of his head, before Chanyeol stood up, once again taking the advantage of height. He flicked the excess water off his fingertips. “When we leave after the opening party, I mean.”

Hakyeon swallowed. “I hadn’t known, but I’d suspected,” he said carefully, looking away from Chanyeol’s eyes. It had been the only option that made sense. Kyungsoo wouldn’t send Taekwoon with just anyone, and where better to place him than in the house of a king. It would get him out of Hakyeon’s hair and also potentially groom him for a future in politics. 

Kyungsoo was too crafty sometimes. Hakyeon knew he was too, but right now, he wasn’t exactly appreciative.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” Chanyeol said, smiling gently, but Hakyeon felt himself stiffen. Chanyeol surely noticed. “It might be good, you know. But I will defer to your decision, and not Kyungsoo’s. I’ve no interest in prying one of your children from you unwillingly.”

Hakyeon exhaled shakily, relief sweeping through him. “I appreciate that,” he murmured. Kyungsoo could pitch a fit then, if he wanted, but Chanyeol was immune to such antics. It gave Hakyeon some comfort. “We shall see what happens at the trial, if I don’t come back— please help Taekwoon. I think he’d want to stay here even if I’m gone, but Kyungsoo has leverage over him and I wouldn’t put it past him to exploit it to get his way.”

“I’ll do my best,” Chanyeol said, not bothering to deny that Kyungsoo might play dirty. “But Hakyeon, you aren’t going to be killed.”

This wasn’t something Hakyeon wished to speak about, or think overmuch about. There was such a thick knot of worry in him, for himself, and his children. He stepped back from the edge of the pool, around Chanyeol, heading onto the grass. Chanyeol sighed and followed him, the both of them steadily making their way back to the house.

“When do you leave for Vrienyre?” Chanyeol asked. 

“Tomorrow night, perhaps around two,” Hakyeon replied, watching the grass flatten beneath his feet as he walked, the movements silent. “Kyungsoo is coming with me.”

Chanyeol hummed. “I wanted to go as well, but Kyungsoo felt that would look a bit too much like we were trying to play the power card,” he said, and Hakyeon nodded, agreeing. “I’d like to send Minseok in my stead, simply as a statement of support.”

Again, Hakyeon nodded. “Alright,” he murmured, stepping up onto the porch. Through the sliding glass door he could see the others still on the couches; Kyungsoo had rejoined them. 

Chanyeol put his hand on Hakyeon’s shoulder, large and warm, stopping him from opening the door just yet. “I don’t think it will, but if it does go badly, you know I won’t let anything happen to you,” Chanyeol said simply.

Hakyeon did know, but he still didn’t want it to come to that. “We’ll see,” he whispered.

Chanyeol smiled softly, then squeezed Hakyeon’s shoulder before he let go.

——

Jaehwan was piled under blankets, but he was so cold, his fingertips like ice.

The door to his basement room was open, the bright kitchen light streaming down in bars like sunlight through clouds. He could hear murmurs from upstairs. He hoped Hongbin wasn’t being awful. 

The light shifted, dimmed, as someone came down the stairs, and through swimming vision Jaehwan could make out Sanghyuk’s overlarge form. His heart began to pitter-patter all the faster, which did not help his lightheadedness. 

“Any better?” Sanghyuk asked quietly, but Jaehwan’s head still throbbed.

Jaehwan struggled to sit up a bit straighter, pushing off from the pile of pillows at his back. “I think so,” he whispered, voice hoarse. His mouth was grossly dry. 

Sanghyuk sat on the edge of the bed, the pressure of his weight touching Jaehwan’s thigh, and it made goosebumps rise on Jaehwan’s skin. Jaehwan looked away from Sanghyuk’s face, at his hands, the bowl he was holding. “It’s soup, if you feel up to it,” Sanghyuk murmured. There was steam gently curling up from the bowl.

Jaehwan swallowed thickly. “I think I’m too weak to hold the bowl,” he admitted, almost shy, and Sanghyuk carefully scooted closer, holding the bowl out. Jaehwan felt pale, but if he wasn’t so damn woozy, he’d probably be blushing. As it was, he grabbed the spoon carefully, his fingers almost numb, and brought some soup to his mouth. It burned a little, too hot, but it assuaged that awful, rough dryness in his mouth. 

“Careful,” Sanghyuk said, very softly. 

Jaehwan shook his head a little, then instantly regretted it as the world swam. “Thank you for— for everything,” he whispered. For the spell ingredients, for bringing the soup, for carrying Jaehwan, delirious and weak, back into the house, for putting him to bed. 

Well. At least Jaehwan hadn’t fainted again. No, he remembered falling into Sanghyuk’s lap, remembered those warm hands gathering him up.

Sanghyuk didn’t say anything, watched silently as Jaehwan took a few more bites of soup. It steadied him some, the warmth in his stomach spreading pleasantly. He wondered if whoever had made the soup had put any magic into it. Or if Jaehwan was simply that bad off. 

Jaehwan put the spoon back into the bowl, the metal clinking softly against the ceramic rim. “Did it work? The spell,” he asked. Had this all been for nothing, was Jaehwan utterly useless. If it hadn’t worked, he might cry. He hated feeling so weak. Magic was supposed to bloom within him, bring life through his fingertips. Not this.

“Hard to tell when Hongbin just smells like smoke and skunk shit,” Sanghyuk said, and even through his dark thoughts, it made Jaehwan giggle, just a little. He was profoundly grateful for it. “But yes, Jaehwan, I think it did.”

“Good,” Jaehwan sighed out, deflating back against the pillows. “I don’t think I have it in me to try again any time soon.” 

Sanghyuk’s eyelids dropped a little as he looked down at Jaehwan, and he put the bowl of soup on Jaehwan’s nightstand carefully. “Are you getting worse?” he asked, and Jaehwan closed his eyes.

“I’m always getting worse,” Jaehwan said, and Sanghyuk made no response to that. He fought not to think of last night, of Sanghyuk in this room, the heat of his body, his mouth. His soft, sweet words. Jaehwan’s mouth twisted. “My hands are cold,” he complained loudly, just to get the conversation away from his impending doom. 

Jaehwan felt Sanghyuk’s touch, his fingers curling, ever warm, around Jaehwan’s. In response, Jaehwan gave his fingers a light squeeze. 

“You’re not going to let me forget, are you,” Jaehwan mumbled, and opened his eyes to see Sanghyuk frowning quizzically at him. “About what happened yesterday.”

Sanghyuk’s expression smoothed out. “If you want to pretend it didn’t happen, we can,” he said, voice flat, but Jaehwan wondered if there was hurt there, or if he was imagining it. 

Jaehwan’s eyes traced his features. Sanghyuk was beautiful, an austere sort of lovely, and dead. Immortal.

“Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan said, throat suddenly feeling thick. “I don’t have a lot of time left.” And here Jaehwan had been trying not to think of this. 

Sanghyuk let go of one of Jaehwan’s hands in favor of cupping the side of his face, thumb brushing under Jaehwan’s eye at the moisture there. “Let me worry about that, Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk murmured. His eyes were bright in the darkness. 

Jaehwan wasn’t sure he could do that. Wasn’t sure he knew how to let someone else worry.

There was suddenly a loud sort of clomping noise, and Hongbin descended the stairs to the basement. He paused, a moment, when he saw Sanghyuk so near to Jaehwan, and Sanghyuk pulled back, drawing his hands into his own lap. Jaehwan immediately mourned the loss of warmth.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Hongbin said stiffly, and Jaehwan knew him well enough to tell he was angry. He’d washed the marks off his skin, and put on a sweatshirt. The hair around his forehead was a bit damp. Jaehwan cast his senses out tiredly, feeling over Hongbin’s form, and coming up clean.

“It did work,” Jaehwan sighed out, eyes fluttering closed. 

There was the sound of the ceramic bowl scraping across the wood of the nightstand, and then Hongbin’s voice was above him saying, “Great.”

“Hongbin,” Sanghyuk said, an offering, but Hongbin was moving away, Jaehwan could sense it.

“Don’t start, vampire,” Hongbin snapped, and Jaehwan heard his heavy footfalls go back up the stairs once more. 

Sanghyuk sighed, and Jaehwan didn’t have the energy to even bother echoing it. “Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said tiredly, “do you want to— we can pretend it didn’t happen—”

It was too late for all that. “No,” he murmured. No. Hongbin could be angry if he wanted. They couldn’t go back, not when they’d already begun. Jaehwan knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t capable of it. His hands fluttered above the blankets. “Still cold.”

Sanghyuk obligingly held them once more, a gentle, comforting pressure.

——

Hakyeon sat on his own couch, the leather cool through his clothing, and turned the envelope in his hands over and over. The broken wax seal gave it some weight, and the edges were stiff, digging against Hakyeon’s fingertips.

He did not need to read it again. He wished he could burn it, but he wasn’t sure if he would need to present it when he arrived at Vrienyre. Perhaps he should have left it with Kyungsoo. 

Two nights from now. Hakyeon closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Everyone kept saying he wouldn’t be killed, and he didn’t think he would be, honestly. But his kind could be quite creative in terms of punishments. And he knew there were some who said he’d gotten off too lightly last time. Hakyeon did not want to spend the next decade without a limb, a silver charm embedded in his raw flesh to keep the limb from regenerating.

He swallowed, tossing the letter down onto the coffee table and scrubbing at his face. Taekwoon had been so subdued through the evening once he’d finally emerged from the parlour, clinging to Hakyeon, and Hakyeon told himself it didn’t mean anything. He was like a security blanket, the only safe thing Taekwoon knew in such an environment. Though it worried Hakyeon greatly, for what would happen while Hakyeon was away.

But bringing Taekwoon along was out of the question. No, he would just have to hope Wonshik and Sanghyuk could look after him, and that Chanyeol would make good on his word. 

Hakyeon groaned, letting his head tip back on the couch, staring at his lovely high ceilings. The house was so quiet. Wonshik had opted to stay at the feeder house for some extra time, to socialize, he’d said. But Hakyeon wasn’t fooled. If he didn’t get an annoyed text from Kyungsoo within the next few hours about Wonshik chasing after one of the female feeders, Hakyeon would be most surprised. 

And then there was Taekwoon. Hakyeon had bowed out early for Taekwoon’s sake. He sensed his child needed to be alone. There was no telling what Kyungsoo and Taekwoon had spoken of in private, and Hakyeon didn’t want to accost Taekwoon for the information, though he dearly wanted to know. Wanted to make sure his maker wasn’t twisting Taekwoon’s arm, so to speak. 

Sure enough, Taekwoon had mumbled something about wanting to shower as soon as they’d returned home, and Hakyeon could only sigh as Taekwoon avoided his eyes. 

Hakyeon’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and Hakyeon pulled it out to see a text from Sanghyuk. Unconsciously, Hakyeon found himself sitting up straighter after he’d read it.

_Reversal spell worked. How soon can Taekwoon be brought by?_

Hakyeon’s hands lowered, letting the phone rest on his thigh. How soon, how soon— tomorrow. It’d be tomorrow or— well. Or they’d have to wait until Hakyeon came back. If he came back. How he came back. No, Hakyeon wanted to see Taekwoon reunited with his makeshift family, before he had to throw himself at the mercy of their courts. He wanted to make sure his kitten had them, at least, even if Hakyeon got taken from him. 

Hakyeon grit his teeth and replied with, _Tomorrow, perhaps. Let me ask him_.

The pipes were quiet, indicating Taekwoon was done with his shower. Hakyeon stood, stuffing his phone back in his pocket as he made his way briskly though his home to Taekwoon’s closed bedroom door. He knocked, sharp and loud in the echoing quiet of the house, and heard Taekwoon faintly say, “It’s open.”

That gave Hakyeon slight pause. But he opened the door, peering inside curiously before he stepped in fully, closing the door behind him. The room was dark, Taekwoon nowhere to be seen, but the bathroom light was on, and the door was mostly ajar. The combination of light and dark made the steam billowing out from the bathroom all that more visible, and Hakyeon unconsciously tugged the sleeves of his sweater up a bit when the humidity of the air hit him. 

“Are you decent?” Hakyeon called, slightly teasing, as he remembered Taekwoon waltzing into his own room while Hakyeon had been showering, bold as you please. That had been quite a thing. Hakyeon had little self consciousness left. None, really. But he had been able to tell Taekwoon wasn’t quite the same. 

There was a definite pause. “You can come in,” Taekwoon finally replied, and his small voice echoed against the tiles of the bathroom. That did not answer Hakyeon’s question.

This was possibly a test. Or perhaps Taekwoon was simply trying to even them out. Whichever it was, Hakyeon schooled his face into neutrality before he made his way over the plush carpet, stopping in the doorway of the bathroom.

Taekwoon had not showered. The shower curtains were drawn, and Taekwoon lay in the tub; the only parts of him visible above the water were his head, and his kneecaps. He was too tall for the tub, and as Hakyeon watched he sank a little lower into the water, more of his knees rising above the water to compensate. Hakyeon caught a few flashes of his broad shoulders as the water moved, but that was it. There were a lot of jars and bottles around the edge of the sink, body washes and bath salts, Taekwoon had evidently enjoyed emptying a good deal of product into the tub. The water was milky and vaguely tinted blue. 

“You said you were going to shower,” Hakyeon said, keeping his voice level. He leaned against the doorframe, limbs loose. “You’re too big for this tub, next time you should use mine. It’s very large and has jets.”

Taekwoon blinked at him, his hair sticking to his face. Hakyeon could feel himself hardening in his jeans, and was glad his sweater was long enough to cover that up. “Duly noted,” Taekwoon said softly, slipping a little further down so his chin was in the water. “What did you want?”

Hakyeon stared, and as he stared, Taekwoon sank lower and lower into the water, until first his mouth, then his nose, were under too. There was thigh peeking above the water now. 

This was a test. God, was this a test. He wished he knew how Taekwoon’s mind _worked_.

“Sanghyuk texted,” Hakyeon said finally, figuring it was better if he got this over with quickly. The mishmash of scents from all the products Taekwoon had used were giving him a headache. Also his dick was way too interested in that bit of thigh he could see. He determinately kept his gaze on Taekwoon’s eyes, peering up and up at him from right above the waterline. “Jaehwan removed the siren spell from Hongbin. They can meet as early as tomorrow, if you think you’re ready.”

Taekwoon’s eyes widened slightly, and then he tipped his face out of the water, and Hakyeon didn’t know why the way the dampness shone over Taekwoon’s face was such a turn on, but it was. He hated himself. 

“If I go, you’ll come with me?” Taekwoon asked, and Hakyeon— Hakyeon nodded, for he didn’t trust himself to speak. “I— tomorrow is fine.”

“I’ll let them know,” Hakyeon said stiffly, moving to pull his sweater up so he could grab his phone out of his pocket, before thinking better of it. He was too hard, and Taekwoon did not need to know that. This— this may be a test, or it may just be a show that Taekwoon trusted him, trusted him even in such a vulnerable, intimate setting. Hakyeon did not want to sully that for him.

Taekwoon stared at him levelly, then raised himself back up out of the water, until his upper torso was exposed to the air. He was as pale as Hakyeon remembered, as wonderfully shaped.

“Kitten, will you— will you tell me what Kyungsoo spoke to you about?” Hakyeon said, blurting it out before he could think about it, distracted by the mole on Taekwoon’s shoulder. 

This conversation should wait. Hakyeon knew it, but God, he wanted to savour this moment. Taekwoon trusting him, Taekwoon soft and damp, so young. The delicate way the ends of Taekwoon’s hair were curled against his forehead, his cheeks. The redness of his lips, the shine of them.

Hakyeon wanted to cry. He also wanted to crawl into that tiny tub. 

“Nothing important,” Taekwoon said in answer to Hakyeon’s question, and Hakyeon felt himself shut down before the fear could take hold. Taekwoon could clearly see the change in his eyes, because he quickly said, “Truly. Kyungsoo just— wanted to know if I really wanted to stay, and told me that I shouldn’t be afraid of him.”

Hakyeon forced himself to breathe, the thickness of the air sitting heavy in his chest. “If he threatens you, tell me,” he muttered. It was all he could do, let Taekwoon know he was here for him, he was, he was on his side. All he wanted was Taekwoon to trust him.

“I will,” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon could see his throat work as he swallowed. “Thank you.”

Hakyeon smiled softly, and decided he’d tortured himself enough. He turned to leave, but there was the gentle sound of splishing, of water moving in a contained space, and then Taekwoon’s soft, feathery voice.

“I’m sorry,” Taekwoon murmured, and Hakyeon looked back at him, cocking his head to the side in question. “For what I did to you after I fed, in the parlour, I’m— I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Hakyeon said. Yes, that had been cruel, though Taekwoon had not meant it so. The temptation, the echo of it, bloody fingers on Hakyeon’s lips. It had not been Taekwoon’s blood this time though, it had been the girl’s, which had made it slightly less torturous. But watching Taekwoon pin her down, move against her, had been enough even without the events that followed. “You were blood drunk, kitten, and you already apologized,” he said softly, sighing. 

“I know but,” Taekwoon mumbled, damp lashes lowering, showing they were stuck together with water in places, “I’m still sorry.”

Hakyeon didn’t know what to say, what else he could say. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, an inarticulate sound of general despair might come out, which was definitely not the appropriate response to an apology. So he turned wordlessly and left, closing Taekwoon’s door behind himself and heaving in lungfuls of the hallway’s crisp, cool air. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, pressing a hand to his crotch, like that would will his erection away. This had the potential to go so badly.

He’d get ahold of himself. For Taekwoon’s sake, he had to.

——

It was faint, it was so very faint, but under the scent of lavender and chamomile Taekwoon could smell Hakyeon’s arousal, lingering in the damp air. He put his forehead to the cool edge of the tub, but it did little to help.

Tomorrow. How could he face them, he wondered, his family, his loves, how could he, when he’d become this. It had been a few days, but so much had changed. _He_ was changed, and not just physically.

Well, he’d always been wrong, he supposed. And they’d never cared. They just didn’t need to know exactly how wrong he’d become.

Taekwoon exhaled shakily and slid his hand between his legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i really am sorry this chapter took so long. part of why it took so long was because it was going to cover the reunion as well as some other stuff, but it was just... so much, and i kept writing and writing, and seeing how much was still left was just super daunting, so i cut it down.   
>  2\. all of u informed me last chapter that, yes, u cannot kudo a work more than once. i have to tell u all i am Big Shook.   
>  3\. i'm sorry i'm so shit at replying to comments sobs i try ;n; and i read them all even if i dont reply   
>  4\. i recently moved my ask acct to tumblr, which you can find [here](http://inkin-asks.tumblr.com/), because ask.fm was giving me problems :\ but yes if u have fic or writing questions do feel free to send them in ♥


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE i'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out, there are Reasons but i'll save those for later. mostly i want to thank all y'all for patiently waiting and to say that i hope this chapter is at least somewhat worth the wait even tho it is short v__v

There was nothing subtle about Hongbin, he was obvious and rough and irreverent. It was something he’d always known, almost cultivated. He would be a force of nature, like a hurricane, or tornado, crumbling concrete and cracking asphalt, shattering windows and ripping trees up by the roots. Because, simply put, he didn’t give enough of a shit about the world to bother stepping lightly enough to not break everything he touched.

So moments like this, his fingertips tucking the rough fabric of a towel under the pantry door gently, were stark. The careful attentiveness of the action almost felt worshipful, delicate and careful.

Once all the sunlight was blocked out, and Hongbin was kneeling in darkness, he shifted, feeling over the floor for the latch of the trap door down that led down to Jaehwan’s room.

There was nothing to see by; Jaehwan still sleeping, probably dragged under by the loss of energy he’d suffered undoing the spell on Hongbin. So Hongbin stepped down carefully, the old wooden stairs creaking under his weight. “Jaehwan?” he called softly, and heard the very soft rustling of blankets as a response. “I’m going to turn on the lights.” 

He did so, smacking roughly at the wall until he’d found the switch. In the sudden light, Jaehwan didn’t even move, laid buried beneath his blankets, eyes closed. Hongbin didn’t like how pale he looked, paler than usual.

“What time is it,” Jaehwan asked, voice a rasp. It reminded Hongbin of a wounded animal, the sound a useless limb made as it dragged over dirt. Jaehwan’s eyelids were almost lilac. 

Hongbin sat on the edge of Jaehwan’s bed, touching the back of his hand to Jaehwan’s forehead. He was cool, but not cold. “It’s sunset,” Hongbin said, trailing fingertips over the side of Jaehwan’s face before pulling away. “We have soup, I think you need to eat.” 

“Probably.” The word slurred together. “I’m very tired.”

Hongbin felt iciness hard and wicked in his chest, crystal edges digging into him. “Are you up to tonight?” he asked tersely. If Jaehwan wasn’t— they’d figure something out. Wait until he got better, at least a little. Hongbin almost thought that would be the wiser choice.

Jaehwan’s brow wrinkled, and his skin was so pale and smooth it looked like silk creasing. Then his eyes fluttered open, gaze indistinct. “Tonight—” he said, then looked to Hongbin, his irises so dark in his face they were piercing. “Taekwoon.” Hongbin nodded, and Jaehwan blinked, quickly, clearly trying to bring his mind back from unconsciousness. 

Taekwoon could wait, he had eternity— but Jaehwan didn’t. Well, for now he didn’t. Hongbin stared down at Jaehwan, who was slowly moving, joints creaking, and remembered what Jaehwan looked like in Sanghyuk’s arms. Remembered the way Sanghyuk’s eyes lingered, lashes lowered. Jaehwan would have eternity, if Sanghyuk gave it to him.

It might be the choice they had in the end. Hongbin didn’t think for a moment that Taekwoon’s new blood bond would save Jaehwan if the vampires decided he was too much of a liability. But turning him instead of killing him would nullify the magical threat, and the vampires might see it as mercy. 

Taekwoon sure wouldn’t see it as mercy. Hongbin didn’t think Jaehwan would either, but in unpleasant ways Hongbin felt he didn’t know Jaehwan as well as he used to anymore. 

Jaehwan had managed to struggle onto his elbows, lips parted slightly as he panted with the effort. Hongbin watched his silver lashes trembling. He wondered if this Jaehwan was their Jaehwan in full anymore, if Sanghyuk hadn’t slipped in and plucked at Jaehwan’s mind, altering it just enough to suit him, to make Jaehwan malleable. The vampire had certainly had ample chances. 

He wondered what it meant for Taekwoon as well. How changed would he be.

“I want to see him,” Jaehwan whispered. His lashes raised. “Taekwoon. I’ve missed him so much, Hongbin.” The raw pain there was stark, and Hongbin felt guilty, for doubting him. 

Even though he didn’t think it was the wisest choice currently, Hongbin had been expecting it, braced for it in gilded armor. He nodded. “I want Taekwoon back too,” Hongbin murmured. “But Jaehwan— everything is going to be different from now on. It isn’t going to back to how it was. It can’t.”

“I know,” Jaehwan said, and he looked to Hongbin, eyes assessing in a foggy way. “Does it bother you?”

“Yes,” Hongbin said unhesitatingly. He hated it, he wanted his life back. That was a common theme with him. But all they could do was go forward. His voice when it came again was very small. “I’m afraid.”

There was sadness thick in Jaehwan’s eyes. “Of Taekwoon?” he asked softly, and Hongbin shook his head. Hongbin didn’t think he could ever be afraid of Taekwoon, soft-hearted as he was. “Then what?”

Hongbin gave a lazy one shouldered shrug, trying to affect casualness when his eyes were stinging. “The future, I guess.”

Jaehwan’s gaze moved to stare blankly ahead of himself, eyelids droopy. Taekwoon would despair, seeing Jaehwan so sick, so weak. 

“Me too.”

——

Taekwoon was weak. It was a secret well concealed under anger and fire but it was there, with him, always. And the problem was he didn’t know how to be any different, it was how he’d always been, two decades of a cycle that he couldn’t break.

He wanted to. But he didn’t know how. He didn’t know where to start.

This wasn’t how, hiding in his bed, buried under blankets that were finally beginning to smell like himself, clutching a plush pillow to his chest. Taekwoon pressed his face into it, whimpering softly, his legs bending so he was curled up like a cat. 

It was all so much, and he was so frightened. In the past, it was easier to just— just not. Not think about anything, not look back at the bloodied past, nor to the crumbling future. And that was just impossible now, everything was changed, he had nothing but future, and that— that was part of the problem, wasn’t it.

The door to his room creaked open, and light shone through the fabric of his blanket, raining down in blues and greens through the patterns. 

“Taekwoon?” Hakyeon’s voice was soft and tentative. Taekwoon bit at his pillow, blunt teeth grinding against the embroidery. “Are you awake, kitten?”

 _Unfortunately_ , Taekwoon thought. “Yes,” he rasped. There was a draft at the top of his head, and he turned his face towards it, so he could peek out from under his blanket, but all that was in his line of vision was mattress and the corner of his nightstand. 

Then the blanket was tugged down, cool air washing over his torso, and he looked up to see Hakyeon standing over him, a frown marring his soft face. “It’s a bit late— I thought perhaps you weren’t lucid,” Hakyeon said softly.

Taekwoon swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to face this, face everything, but he couldn’t spend eternity hiding away. Not like he’d done when he was human. When he was alive. 

“I’m— I just—” Taekwoon grappled for words that wouldn’t make him sound young and pathetic. He shifted further onto his back, still holding the pillow tightly. “Having a hard time.”

Hakyeon made a small noise, a sympathetic little exhalation, and then he was sitting beside Taekwoon on the bed. Not touching, always so careful, but Taekwoon felt the weight of him all the same. And he was so _small_ , Taekwoon remembered that, remembered the narrow width of his shoulders in Taekwoon’s arms. 

“They love you, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said gently. He was wearing a soft-looking blue sweater, and Taekwoon wanted to pull him in, wondered how Hakyeon wasn’t falling apart himself. “They will be happy to see you.”

“I know,” Taekwoon whispered. And he did. But was it right of them to be so, was it right of him to go back to them. Immortal and cold, dead, he had no place in their lives anymore. And yet he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them behind. 

He was selfish and ugly. And he’d be nothing but a burden to them. Another secret, a liability. He couldn’t do anything for them anymore. 

“I miss them,” Taekwoon said, the words threadbare. Taekwoon felt like any pressure would rip him through. “I want to go home.” He swallowed thickly. “But I don’t really have a home anymore.”

Hakyeon’s mouth twisted, and Taekwoon could almost sees his words fall on Hakyeon’s shoulders like a weight. It made Taekwoon feel indescribably guilty. Hakyeon was— was so—

“They’re strong, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said slowly, carefully. Tired. He seemed tired. His hands were knotted together in his lap, knuckles pale. “Your friends are strong and they will adapt. You will too. Your life will never, can never, be the same, but you can go back to them. Your family is still waiting for you. You can have them back.” 

Taekwoon stared up at Hakyeon, at the softness of his hair feathering over his forehead, the tips trailing against his lashes. His wide uptilted eyes, the roundness of his jaw. He smelled like cedarwood. 

He was so human, this creature— this man, who when Taekwoon had first set eyes upon him, had been in the process of killing Taekwoon’s dearest friend. Taekwoon’s eyes lingered on Hakyeon’s mouth, a weapon in so many ways. 

“Kitten?” Hakyeon said. His eyes were on Taekwoon’s, had noted him staring. Taekwoon looked away, at the white ceiling.

It wasn’t fair to think of it like that. Hakyeon had been a soldier on enemy lines, and they weren’t at war anymore. They were so far beyond that now.

“If I go back to them—” Taekwoon began, unsure how to finish that thought. His eyes flickered down. “If I leave,” he tried again, and Hakyeon’s face did not move, was still as a corpse’s, “will you— will—”

“I’m not going to stop you,” Hakyeon said, sadness thick in his voice, in the lines of his small smile. “I told you before you’re not a hostage.”

That hadn’t been what Taekwoon meant. “Will you miss me?” he whispered, and it was cruel. It showed on Hakyeon’s face, surprise, pain, and for a flash, something that looked almost like anger before it was washed away again. Taekwoon swallowed, waiting for an answer that he already knew.

Hakyeon’s lips were slow to part, words even further behind. “Yes,” he said tiredly. “Yes, kitten, I will, is that what you want to hear?”

Taekwoon might have blushed with shame were he human. But as it was he looked down, away, feeling his lashes brush his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and Hakyeon stood, stepping away. Taekwoon did not like the sudden space, did not like how he suddenly felt so alone.

“There’s a human coming by for you,” Hakyeon said, words brusque but free of any anger. Taekwoon chanced looking up again. “She will be here soon, you should freshen up.”

“I will,” Taekwoon said, sitting up, the blanket pooling in his lap, and Hakyeon nodded shortly, moving to leave. “Hakyeon—”

Hakyeon stopped, sighed, the sound audible, but he turned to look at Taekwoon with nothing more than benign interest, eyebrow quirked. Though his mouth was a bit pinched, Taekwoon rather thought.

“I’m sorry,” Taekwoon repeated, and winced at himself.

The tension in the air, at the least, eased. “You said that already, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, the corners of his mouth curling. 

Taekwoon looked down at the blanket, fingertip tracing the swirls of the gentle pattern. He should say it, but he couldn’t decide if voicing it would be more cruel than not. He wasn’t sure he _could_. 

“I’m worried about you,” he finally whispered. He didn’t look away from his own fingertip moving over the blanket, didn’t want to see Hakyeon’s face. “The trial, the— everything.” He bit his bottom lip, hard, before continuing. “I don’t want to lose you. Hakyeon, I— I—”

“You?” Hakyeon’s voice was so gentle, so soft, it would draw Taekwoon’s very heart out of his chest. 

“I’m beginning to understand,” Taekwoon whispered. He met Hakyeon’s eyes, shame and revulsion and want swirling so thickly in him he could scarcely think. “You can’t leave, you can’t— can’t go and not come back.”

Hakyeon stared at him, and stared, hands clenched at his side. “You’re cruel, you know,” he murmured, and Taekwoon licked his bottom lip. He knew.

“I’m sorry for that too,” he said. He was determined to not break eye contact, but he could feel himself turning inwards, so his face was tipped down, peering up from under his lashes. This was what he was, who he was. Hakyeon had made him, had turned him knowing that Taekwoon was awful and wrong and yes, maybe cruel. 

Hakyeon inhaled slowly, chest rising with it, and then exhaled at the same pace, long and drawn out. “I’ll come back, kitten,” he said finally, eyes piercing. Taekwoon blinked slowly. He knew Hakyeon would want to come back. He knew Hakyeon wanted _him_. But he had to make sure. “I won’t leave you.” A pause. “Even if you leave me.”

Taekwoon’s lips parted on a soundless gasp, and then Hakyeon was gone, pulling the door shut behind him as he went. 

The silence rang in Taekwoon’s ears. He closed his eyes, hands twisting in the blankets settled over his lap. Who even was he, anymore. 

He didn’t want to hurt Hakyeon, he didn’t want Hakyeon to suffer. And yet he did, he did, to punish him for this— for everything twisting ugly and warm and soft and sweet inside Taekwoon—

Taekwoon shook his head. It wasn’t Hakyeon’s fault. It was Taekwoon’s. It was always Taekwoon’s. Hakyeon was— was kind and patient and had been so gentle with Taekwoon, attentive and protective. He’d done far more than Taekwoon had anticipated, and more than he probably deserved. Taekwoon’s heart ached for him, and for his own weakness.

Jaehwan’s smiled flashed, blinding and bright, through Taekwoon’s mind, and then the feeling of Hakyeon trembling in his arms, bloody tears soaking through to Taekwoon’s skin.

Taekwoon leaned back, head thunking unpleasantly against the wall. Jaehwan and Hongbin, his loves, were waiting for him, needed him, and he could not abandon them, owed them so much.

But neither, he was realizing, could he leave Hakyeon, who needed Taekwoon too, in his own way. Hakyeon, old, fierce, _beautiful_ , had given Taekwoon so much, had given him a new life, a new chance. Had given him a fragile, tentative, piece of himself. 

Taekwoon touched his hand to his sternum, over his silent heart. He didn’t know how he was going to reconcile his two lives, his past and his future. 

But he had to try. And hiding here under his blankets wouldn’t get it done.

So with a sigh that was half a groan, Taekwoon swept the blankets off his legs and climbed out of bed.

——

Wonshik wasn’t sure all of them going on this venture was a good idea, but where Hakyeon led, he would always follow. Even if he didn’t agree.

Taekwoon’s face was decidedly pinched, nervously nibbling the inside of his own cheek, and Hakyeon looked as passive as a doll. Wonshik knew better. Hakyeon wasn’t calm, just locked down, buckled in and braced for impact. Wonshik couldn’t decipher if it was for the upcoming reunion, or if his unfocused eyes were trained farther forward, on the trial he’d be leaving them for later tonight. Or perhaps it was something else entirely.

Wonshik’s eyes trailed between them, landing on Taekwoon and Hakyeon’s intertwined hands, Hakyeon pulling Taekwoon along, and felt his eyes narrow.

The four of them stepped out of the park, tangible shadows flickering through the darkness. Sanghyuk seemed almost as keyed up as Taekwoon, pouncing ahead of them and then having to wait up. Hakyeon was determined to be measured, it seemed, to gauge Taekwoon, make sure he was alright. Sanghyuk just wanted to get this done, and in part, Wonshik was of the same mind. But in other parts, he didn’t fully know himself in this moment. 

He supposed he was more concerned with Hakyeon’s well being, his future, than anything else currently. 

And he also was not relishing the idea of dealing with Hongbin. Though hopefully given the circumstances Hongbin would be a bit less— _less_. 

The porch light was on, and the four of them wordlessly flickered around to the backyard, because there’d been enough ruckus over the last few nights and they really didn’t need to draw more attention to this run-down little house. Back here, the light was yellower, the corpses of many dead moths gathered in the casing of the light.

Taekwoon made a small noise, looking up at the back door, and when Hakyeon turned to him, Taekwoon drew his hand away. Hakyeon’s eyes, if it were possible, shuttered even further.

“Kitten?” Hakyeon asked softly, and Sanghyuk stilled at the base of the porch’s stairs, gaze sharp and eyebrow raised. Wonshik, later, would have words with him about being territorial, but he could see why Sanghyuk might be on edge. Taekwoon was a little too focused, a little too fixated, his eyes unblinking and shoulders tense.

“I can hear their heartbeats,” Taekwoon whispered, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his hands into fists as he breathed deeply. The flush from feeding back home was still high on his cheeks, his skin damp with warmth. So it wasn’t an issue of control at this point, but rather of the fact that those Taekwoon had held so dear were now _prey_. “I hate this.”

Hakyeon’s hands fluttered by Taekwoon’s shoulder, his brow creasing in concern. “Taekwoon,” he murmured, “do you want—”

The sound of the door scraping against its wooden frame interrupted him, and he cut off as the four of them all snapped to look at the door swinging open, light from the kitchen spilling out brightly. Hongbin’s silhouette was distinct, Wonshik’s eyes stinging as he tried to see through the light.

It was perhaps a testament to Hongbin’s confidence, or simply his lack of investment in whether he lived or died, that he stepped right out of the house, coming into the darkness enough that Wonshik could make out his sculpted features. His eyes were wild and wide, fixed on Taekwoon, motions trancelike as he made his way down to the first stair of the porch before stilling like he’d finally remembered that he was bone and meat and blood. So much blood. The pounding of his heart sounded like a drum to Wonshik’s ears, his breathing scraping in his chest.

None of them moved, though Hakyeon’s hand had settled quite decisively on Taekwoon’s shoulder, probably on the off chance Taekwoon decided to leap forward. But he didn’t. He just stared, as wide eyed as Hongbin, though where Hongbin appeared almost awed, Taekwoon was seemingly stricken.

“God,” Hongbin gasped, the word raw, almost as if it was a true invocation, pulled in distress from the core of his soul. _God, God, help us_.

It occurred to Wonshik that he’d never seen Hongbin so bare, cracked open and defenseless in spirit as he always was in body. Blunt nails and teeth, trembling limbs and tearable flesh. The closest Wonshik had seen in the past was that moment, those bare few minutes, after Taekwoon’s neck had snapped. But by the time Wonshik had seen him again, battered and broken on a carpet floor scattered with glass shards glittering like diamonds, he’d been razor sharp again, even though the tears had still been wet on his pale cheeks. 

The silence hung like a blanket over them, broken only by the metronome of Hongbin’s heartbeat, his breath falling from parted lips as smoke to swirl away in the icy breeze.

Finally, it was Taekwoon who broke the silence. He stepped forward in a small, aborted movement, the soles of his shoes scraping grittily against the concrete underfoot. Hakyeon’s hand on his shoulder remained. “Hongbin,” Taekwoon whispered, and Hongbin jerked like he’d been struck, eyes finally skittering away, to look down at his own feet.

Then it was Hongbin, just ordinary Hongbin, standing on the steps, armed and ready to slice. Wonshik watched his hands come up to touch his own upper arms, a shiver running through him. “Why are we all out here,” he mumbled, the words thick. “It’s cold.” 

It was. None of them mentioned that it was Hongbin who had come out to greet them. 

Wonshik stepped forward, and Hongbin’s eyes, glittering like silver and just as hard, flickered over him. The corners of Hongbin’s mouth tightened and he stepped away, just a bit too hurried, belying his nervousness, but he strode back over the porch to the open door with his head held high. The others followed, Wonshik sensed rather than heard them. 

Hongbin stopped just inside the door, and Wonshik slipped past him like a shadow, feeling the warmth of the house prickle at his cold skin. In his wake Hongbin shivered again, those eyes tracking his movement, as hostile as ever, and then went past him, outside, to Taekwoon once more, and all pretense at spitefulness fell away. “Do—” Hongbin stuttered, fingertips resting lightly on the door frame as he watched Taekwoon climbing up the porch steps. His voice lowered. “Do you need an invitation?”

For Taekwoon, the question seemed to wash over him, eyes blank, and then he blinked, his brow creasing. “I don’t think so?” 

“I need one,” Hakyeon said, and Hongbin’s expression grew downright icy, clamping down like he was ready to weather a storm. Realizing the potential issue, Hakyeon tightened his grip on Taekwoon’s shoulder and stopped, preventing him from crossing over the threshold into the house. Behind them, Sanghyuk loomed, raising his eyebrows at Wonshik over Hakyeon’s head.

Taekwoon turned to blink at Hakyeon, genuinely bewildered for a precious second, and then blinked at Hongbin in turn, seeming, suddenly, to remember himself, to remember that he was dealing with oil and water, with two warring states. And in the moment that followed, he just looked lost and frightened. The one standing on the railroad tracks between two oncoming trains. 

But Taekwoon was wearing his leather hunting jacket, a deliberate choice that did not escape Wonshik’s notice. He didn’t think it had escaped Hongbin’s, or Hakyeon’s, either. This could devolve, and Wonshik didn’t want it to anymore than Taekwoon did.

In the momentary stalemate Wonshik reached out and carefully touched a cold fingertip to the nape of Hongbin’s neck, the sliver of skin above his shirt collar before his hair began. Hongbin cringed, shoulders coming up even as he whirled, slapping Wonshik’s hand away sharply. “Don’t—” Hongbin started, cutting off as he met Wonshik’s eyes and saw something in them. His hands fell to his sides. “Fine,” Hongbin spat, looking away and stalking further into the house, “fine, whatever, come in, just close the fucking door.”

Wonshik hardly noted the others obeying, following in Hongbin’s wake like waves behind a boat. He inhaled the stale air of the house, smelling the burnt dust of the heating unit and the green ozone of magic thick in the air. And he could smell Hongbin, the salt of his skin and the heat of his blood, and it called out sweetly to him, as it always had, but the amplification of it was decidedly gone. Wonshik scowled as the floor transitioned from linoleum to bare carpets beneath his feet, not liking the realization that the siren spell was no more, but Hongbin still smelled— appealing.

The living room was dimly lit, and there was the source of the softer, weaker heartbeat. Jaehwan was reclined fully on the couch, in a loose hoodie and a threadbare blanket over his lower half. He looked as wispy as ever. Wonshik heard the back door close with a soft _snick_.

Hongbin glared at Wonshik as he moved to hover over Jaehwan, like Jaehwan’s decline in health was all on Wonshik’s shoulders. In Hongbin’s eyes, it probably was all their fault. The vampires. But Jaehwan’s expression mirrored none of Hongbin’s blame. For all his insubstantiality, for all that he seemed to be physically dissipating like cotton candy in water, his mind was clear as crystal. His dark eyes met Wonshik’s, bright and alert in his white face.

“Where is—” Jaehwan asked, eyes darting from Wonshik to the archway of the kitchen. Wonshik knew the moment Taekwoon came in from the slight widening of Jaehwan’s eyes, Hongbin’s subtle inhale. “Oh.”

Hakyeon finally let Taekwoon go, body poised to leap forward if necessary, and Taekwoon shuffled past Wonshik, fixated on Jaehwan in a way that might have been predatory in any other setting. Steadily, Sanghyuk circled around the edges of the room, so he was positioned near to Hongbin, near to Jaehwan’s head, watching Taekwoon with the same intensity Taekwoon was looking at Jaehwan, though for different reasons. Wonshik, lightly, took hold of Hakyeon’s wrist, mostly for moral support. After a second, Hakyeon gently put his hand over Wonshik’s, squeezing, though his eyes never strayed from Taekwoon’s retreating form.

Taekwoon moved slowly, like a wary animal, and stopped when he was about level with Jaehwan’s legs. “Jae?” he whispered, hands clutched together in a tangled knot. Wonshik knew the Jaehwan in front of Taekwoon now was not the one he remembered. Sanghyuk had said something about glittering snowbanks and icicles reflecting sunlight. But Wonshik just saw the pale shell of a person that once existed when he looked at Jaehwan, shed like a snake skin and left to blow away in the breeze. “What— what happened?”

Jaehwan blinked up at Taekwoon, hand coming up to touch his own face as if, for a moment, he’d forgotten what he looked like. “Stress is a killer,” Jaehwan said in explanation, mouth quirking in a wry smile, and Taekwoon’s face twisted. Jaehwan seemed to realize his error, and his hand fell back down to his lap. “I had a weensy meltdown, is all.” 

Jaehwan’s eyes flickered over to the new window for a beat, and Hongbin snorted. Taekwoon looked too, noting the change, taking in the crack in the wall plaster by the chimney. He seemed to shrink as he did so, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I’m sorry,” Taekwoon said in the barest of whispers.

“You should be,” Hongbin said immediately, and Wonshik heard Sanghyuk sigh from all the way across the room. Hongbin, for his part, seemed mildly ashamed of the words, but the emotion appeared to just make him all the more defiant. 

Jaehwan squinted at Hongbin, craning around to do so. “Hongbin,” he muttered, frowning in a way that was utterly non-threatening even considering his magical abilities. Jaehwan right now would lose an arm wrestling match to a kitten. His large, liquid eyes looked to Taekwoon again. “When we found out— Hongbin said he was glad you’re not dead so he can scold you for being stupid.” The reproof was there in Jaehwan’s words, but the edge of it was decidedly blunter than Hongbin’s.

“Important things,” Taekwoon said, still quiet. He met Hongbin’s eyes, Hongbin who was still straight backed with his chin up, eyes sparking. Though Wonshik thought he could, perhaps, see his bottom lip trembling. “I _am_ sorry. For— so much. Hongbin, I— I’m—” Taekwoon faltered, his delicate voice breaking. Hakyeon’s fingers tightened over Wonshik’s.

Hongbin’s eyes were so big in his face, which for all its angles and planes suddenly looked impossibly young. “Stupid,” he said, voice wobbling. He blinked rapidly, and Wonshik felt his lips part in surprise. “You’re stupid and you almost killed us.” 

Taekwoon sighed softly as Hongbin’s face crumpled, his hands coming up to cover his shame, hide his tears. When Taekwoon tugged Hongbin against his front hugging carefully, Hakyeon tensed, but all that happened was Hongbin pressed himself into the curve of Taekwoon’s body and muttered thickly, “I missed you.”

Jaehwan’s eyes sparkled as he gazed up at the other two. He reached out, fingers tugging at the hem of Taekwoon’s jacket. After a moment Taekwoon pulled one of his arms from around Hongbin and fumbled blindly, catching Jaehwan’s hand and intertwining their fingers. Jaehwan’s head fell back against the cushions, eyes going lidded, the other vampires forgotten in the shadow of the tentative peace it seemed only Taekwoon could bring.

Hakyeon pulled away from Wonshik, slipping out of his grasp as easily as a fistful of sand. It took the span of two heartbeats, Hongbin’s, for Wonshik to hear the back door open and close.

Taekwoon didn’t notice.

——

The night welcomed Hakyeon as its own, as frigid as the air, as silent as the darkness, his edges faded out into the black spaces between the stars. 

But for a moment, only a moment, just long enough for him to get off the molding wood of the porch and into the overlong grass. Then the back door opened silently, a beam of light so solid spilling out Hakyeon felt like he’d been hit over the head with it. He stopped, squinting, waiting. The top of the grass went up to his knees, stiff and dead, pricking into his slacks.

“Hakyeon.” The door shut again, and it was Wonshik that was revealed in the darkness, coming down the steps towards him. Hakyeon frowned, just a little, not liking the idea of Sanghyuk as the only one to babysit Taekwoon. Though, Hakyeon supposed, Sanghyuk would probably rather spend the rest of eternity handcuffed to Hongbin than let Jaehwan come to any harm, at this point. “You’re leaving.”

Hakyeon exhaled a shaky breath. There was no answering puff of steam from his lips; his insides were as cold as the winter air. “Vrienyre is a bit of a ways, you know this,” Hakyeon murmured, though he knew this wasn’t, exactly, what Wonshik was taking issue with. 

In answer, Wonshik cocked an eyebrow, sauntering to stand in front of Hakyeon. He placed his broad hands on Hakyeon’s shoulders, a deep hum coming from his chest, thoughtful. Hakyeon’s eyes traced the lines of his face, ever young, but so much older than the bespeckled academic he’d met in the winding backstreets of Naples all those decades ago. Wonshik had been at Hakyeon’s side for so long.

“Not saying goodbye?” Wonshik murmured, voice pitched at that impossibly low timbre that Hakyeon swore he could feel shaking his bones. He watched as Wonshik tipped his head towards the lit-up house, an indication. It made Hakyeon’s stomach swoop unpleasantly.

“I said my goodbyes already,” he said, smiling blandly in the face of Wonshik’s scowl. 

It wasn’t technically a lie. Taekwoon knew he was leaving, and knew he’d be back. There was nothing else to say, to do. Hakyeon had gotten him back where he belonged, slotted into place beside his family. In the arms of loves Hakyeon could not replace.

Hakyeon was joyous that his child could hold onto something so many vampires lost in turning. Taekwoon gave his heart so sparingly, loved so deeply, that Hakyeon rather thought losing Hongbin and Jaehwan would have ruined him in the wake of the loss of his own life, his humanity. It was them that would truly be able to pull him from the waters of despair. Hakyeon could only offer a hand, keep him from sinking. But he couldn’t save his heart. 

And it was hard, it hurt, to watch his blood begin to take the first steps away from him. Hakyeon could _feel_ Taekwoon, feel his magic running through Taekwoon’s veins, skittering under his skin. Just as he could feel Wonshik and Sanghyuk, was pulled towards Kyungsoo. 

He wanted, so badly, to be Taekwoon’s family in heart as he was in body. 

“Keep an eye on Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said softly, looking up into Wonshik’s dark eyes. Wonshik’s expression was placid and inscrutable, dark rocks up against a stormy sea. “Please. I trust Sanghyuk to hover over and look after the humans, but Taekwoon— keep him level.” He stepped in, closing the distance between their bodies so he could slip his hands around Wonshik’s waist, under his jacket. “I’ll be back in a few days one way or another.”

Wonshik wasn’t fooled by his bravado, never would be. But he knew Hakyeon well enough to not say anything about it. Or perhaps, he just knew there was nothing to say at all.

“Let me know when you get there, Hakyeon,” Wonshik murmured, and Hakyeon nodded, their noses brushing with the movement. Wonshik sighed then, eyelids drooping, and Hakyeon closed his own eyes when Wonshik pressed a kiss to his lips, his hands cupping Hakyeon’s face tenderly. It made Hakyeon indescribably sad.

He was loved, he was, and he was so grateful for it. He should not forget it. 

Wonshik pulled away, breath ghosting over Hakyeon’s lips. “I’ll see you in two days,” Hakyeon whispered, pressing a kiss to the smooth plane of Wonshik’s cheek and then stepping away. Wonshik said nothing more, just watched as Hakyeon turned and walked away. 

They would be alright, Hakyeon knew. He wasn’t even worried about it, really. But it was his job to make sure they were sorted, they were safe and happy. He should, if anything, be worried about himself, and yet he found he wasn’t. Not anymore. In the distance looming, it had all been so scary, but now that he was faced with it so closely, he could feel nothing.

At a casual human speed he went through the overlong grass, around the house, down the driveway and out onto the sidewalk. It felt surreal, the silence and stillness that felt almost like tranquility. 

When he reached the corner of the block he stopped to pull his phone out of his pocket, swiping it open to connect him with a familiar contact. 

It rang twice and there was a click, but no verbal greeting. “Did you go by my house?” he murmured into the receiver, edging out of the circle of light cast from the nearest streetlamp. 

Static for a moment and then Kyungsoo’s voice came through. “The olive green suitcase right?” 

“Yes,” Hakyeon whispered, turning to look behind himself at the empty street, at the houses lit up in tidy rows, at everything he was leaving behind. The toes of his shoes poked over the edge of the curb. “I’m ready, come pick me up.”

——

As a rule, Hongbin hated crying, therefore he strode to do it as seldom as possible. Perhaps though, given the circumstances, he could be forgiven this time.

Even after he’d stopped he felt fragile, wobbly, a colt trying to find footing for the first time. The jittery sensation that was always a close companion with vampires didn’t help. And how odd that now Taekwoon would always bring that to them, warring with the comfort he’d always offered them.

Hongbin stared at Taekwoon, sitting on the edge of the couch, wedging Jaehwan’s legs between his body and the cushions. He was still recognizable as Taekwoon: the shape was right, but it was so very strange to look at him now, something off just enough to be unsettling. It was that strange way vampires never seemed quite as tangible as humans, as solid or clunky, but rather flickery around the edges, like a malfunctioning hologram. Especially in lighting like this, dim, backlit from the kitchen. The whites of Taekwoon’s eyes were stark. 

It didn’t feel real, yet. The sort of floaty, smooth motion of the vampires, of Taekwoon, made it seem dreamlike. Hongbin watched Taekwoon’s mouth moving, his soft voice just that bit more melodic, seductive, _calling_. Always drawing them in. It would feel real, Hongbin thought, the first time the illusion cracked. The illusion of normalcy. When Taekwoon finally slipped and those blunt, flashing teeth grew to razor points.

Sanghyuk orbited around, finally settling on the arm of the couch by Jaehwan’s head. Hongbin noted his position mostly out of habit. The vampire was being quiet, and keeping his hands to himself in a way that Hongbin found rather telling. At least he had a little respect for Taekwoon. Even if it wasn’t much. 

Jaehwan was either oblivious or didn’t care. He lay reclined on the couch, letting his head rest against Sanghyuk’s hip even as he gazed up at Taekwoon as if he was seeing the sun again. The three of them were a tableau of tragedy waiting to happen.

“You look so different,” Jaehwan was saying, voice a little raspy. “Somehow. But it also kind of suits you.” He swallowed, eyes lingering over Taekwoon’s face. “What does it feel like?”

Taekwoon looked down, picking at the frays on the blanket in Jaehwan’s lap. “So different,” he whispered, “and yet— the same. My mind is the same. But all my senses are changed, and I feel— not strong, but easy, light, like I don’t weigh anything, and like everything is breakable. Everything except me.”

Hongbin felt the hairs on his nape prickling, standing on end, and wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to this. Maybe he shouldn’t, maybe it was better to remember.

The light from the kitchen flickered, a brief disturbance, and then Wonshik was back, making his way as unobtrusively as possible to the loveseat Hongbin had claimed to himself and plopping down beside him. Hongbin had already been pressed into the corner, but he wedged himself in even further. It made no difference; their thighs were still brushing, and Hongbin hissed. 

Taekwoon noted Wonshik’s return, eyes flickering to him, and also seemed to register that Hakyeon had not returned with him. Hongbin hadn’t noticed them leaving, but once he’d pulled away from Taekwoon’s embrace, he’d definitely noted their absence. Taekwoon, for a flash, looked unnerved by Hakyeon’s apparent disappearance. Hongbin wondered where he’d gone. The curiosity only intensified when he caught Sanghyuk raising his eyebrows at Wonshik, the two sharing a look ripe with silent communication.

“Is it— hard?” Jaehwan asked quietly, and just like that Taekwoon’s face was back to its trademark blankness, his eyes alertly focused on Jaehwan once more. “The whole— whole blood thing?”

Hongbin shifted a little, the conversation making him itch with memories of fangs digging into him. Wonshik noticed, of course he did, with his creepy staring, his hovering. Hongbin was suddenly reminded he probably looked disheveled, his cheeks still residually damp from tears, and he surreptitiously patted at them with the back of his hand to try and erase the evidence.

He could sense movement at his side, and when he looked, he saw Wonshik digging in the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a wadded ball of tissues. There were rusty brown spots on some, residue from past feedings, and Hongbin wrinkled his nose as Wonshik parsed through them for a clean one. He knew it was coming, but he still flinched when Wonshik held one out for Hongbin to take.

Hongbin felt his mouth pinching. He didn’t need these vampires to playact nice. “Why?” he whispered, not wanting to draw attention to them. It was clear Taekwoon heard, his eyes skittered over for a beat, but he didn’t stop talking, voice sweet and soft as he answered Jaehwan’s questions.

“You were crying,” Wonshik murmured, and Hongbin felt humiliation warm his face.

He sniffed. It sounded wetter than he would have liked. “I wasn’t,” he said simply. 

Wonshik didn’t laugh at the lie, nor did he press the matter. The tissue disappeared, crumpled in Wonshik’s hand. Hongbin let some of the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders go.

“I don’t see why not,” Sanghyuk was saying, and Hongbin looked at the trio on the other couch. Both Taekwoon and Jaehwan were staring up at Sanghyuk, whose face was thoughtful. “As a gesture of good faith, if nothing else.”

“What?” Hongbin called over, affecting a mild expression. He’d missed whatever the lead in was. “What are we doing?”

“I asked if we could go to the vampires’ home,” Jaehwan said, voice small like he thought Hongbin might scold him. “Just— I want to see. Where Taekwoon is living now.”

“Oh,” Hongbin said faintly. Because that couldn’t go horrifically badly. Beside him, Wonshik sighed quietly. As loathe as Hongbin was to agree with any of the suckers— yes, that was his sentiment exactly.

Deeper and deeper. They’d never claw their way free.

“You’re invited too,” Sanghyuk said, smiling in a way that was almost smug. 

Hongbin wanted to shoot him the finger, but he refrained. He was just too tired to bother. It was all so much; Taekwoon was a vampire, it was real, it was true, and that was enough of a thing to deal with right now. He settled for rolling his eyes and then looking away, down at his own hands on the arm of the couch in obvious dismissal. 

He listened to them quietly plan, the where and the how and the when. Hongbin wasn’t sure he wanted to go into a vampire lair. But he couldn’t let Jaehwan go alone, and he’d be damned if he looked like a coward. It wasn’t cowardice, it was just fucking common sense, but the appearance of fear would be there all the same if he didn’t go along. 

At least all feelings of wobbly tearfulness were gone now under the renewed racing of his heart and the ever familiar warmth of annoyance. 

There was a whisper of air over the shell of Hongbin’s ear, it plucked at his hair and tickled, and he jerked away and turned to see Wonshik’s face very close to his. Hongbin brought his hand up to clamp protectively over the juncture of where his neck met his shoulder, unnerved that he’d been able to feel Wonshik _breathing_ there. 

“What?” Hongbin hissed as Wonshik leaned away, more into his own fucking space on the couch. Hongbin let his hand fall, shoulders dropping back down as the goosebumps faded. “Examining the scars you left?”

Wonshik blinked, his eyes refocusing in a way that only drew attention to the fact that he’d been glazed. Hongbin recognized bloodlust when he saw it, and he bared his teeth. 

“No,” Wonshik mumbled, but his eyes went to Hongbin’s neck. After a moment of sleepy-eyed examination he asked, “Which ones are mine?”

The words stung, even though they weren’t meant to harm. He did have so many scars. And he remembered them all, he could pick out the twin tattoos Wonshik had given him. 

“Fuck if I know,” Hongbin muttered, and Wonshik’s eyes snapped back up to meet his. 

Hongbin looked away.

——

Hakyeon lay back on the spacious backseat of Kyungsoo’s Audi, the heels of his oxfords digging irreverently into the brown leather upholstery. It made him feel like a child, but when the car had pulled up Minseok was in the driver’s seat, and Kyungsoo in shotgun. So here Hakyeon was, belly up and staring at the darkened ceiling of the car. He could see cliff faces speeding past the left window, as they drove down the winding road that hugged the craggy coast. The other window, from his current vantage point, just held the darkened night sky. 

Kyungsoo was talking about _reservations_ and _phone calls_ , while Minseok, ever well trained, grunted in all the appropriate places. Hakyeon closed his eyes, thinking of his children, hoping they’d all be in one piece when he returned. 

“Finally,” he eventually heard Minseok mutter, and Hakyeon got up onto his elbows to peer out of the window, blinking. 

The two-lane coastal highway had become an eight-lane behemoth, spreading out as it turned inland and towards the huddle of skyscrapers jutting out from the horizon. Vrienyre was tucked under one of the larger metropolises in the country, for general ease, and it wasn’t truly all that far from where Hakyeon had settled. They could have probably gone on foot, but that was in rather poor taste. Cars were a wonderful invention, a vast improvement on the carriages which had prevailed for so very long.

Hakyeon sat up properly, the leather seats creaking under the motion, and smoothed his hands over his hair. He didn’t bother with a seat belt, even as the city grew around them and life began to show on the grimy streets. The windows were so tinted that even in daylight someone outside wouldn’t be able to see into the car. And on the off chance they got pulled over, they could glamour their way out of it. The police here should be used to it by now. And the mayor had cut the VCF’s budget. Which was very convenient.

Hakyeon felt a grim smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

They pulled up to a high rise hotel, glass fronted with so many windows lit up in gold. There was valet service, but they passed the front entrance, going around the side to the parking garage. Once inside there was a split, up was parking, down was storage, and a sign read simply EMPLOYEES ONLY PLEASE. Minseok turned right, and they went down, into the darkness. Hakyeon saw no one, but he knew that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t being watched.

They did pass an unloading zone, the lighting here dingy and almost as grey as the concrete walls, and then kept circling further and further down until they hit a large parking space with cars much like the one they were in sat in tidy rows. The lighting here was nearly nonexistent, but Hakyeon’s sensitive eyes could make out everything he needed to. Minseok’s efficiency in parking them between a white BMW and an ostentatious white Porsche indicated he had little trouble with the dim lighting as well. A human, though, would be virtually blind down here.

Hakyeon stepped out of the car, retrieving his small rolling case from the trunk when Minseok popped it open. Minseok took care of the other two bags, and Kyungsoo strode away from them unburdened, his dress shoes clicking on the concrete underfoot. Hakyeon’s nerves were coming back. 

There was an elevator, utilitarian in design, set into the far wall of the lot. It only went down, and they waited for it for what Hakyeon felt was an undue amount of time. And then once inside, it was as dark as the lot, and it only had two options, the floor they were on, and one without any label at all, the button blank and shiny from the number of fingers that had touched it. Minseok pressed it with his knuckle, and the doors slid shut.

Hakyeon counted in his head as they descended, reaching forty before the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. 

It was a mirror image of the hotel lobby so far above their heads, though the lighting here, while golden, was gentler on their eyes. Cream marble with black and gold veining stretched out in large tiles, and a polished wooden beast of a reception desk waited for them. 

The largest difference, Hakyeon thought, from the scene in the humans’ lobby, was that when he stepped out of the elevator he had to work not to flinch at the shadows lurking on either side. Six guards, vampires, wearing crisp suits waited in two groups of three on each side of the elevator’s doors. Security. Just in case. 

Kyungsoo was already at the reception desk, murmuring to the woman sitting there. Hakyeon placed his hands on the desk; it came all the way up to his ribcage.

“Passbooks,” the woman murmured, her English just vaguely accented. She hadn’t been a vampire for very long, Hakyeon didn’t think. Especially not given her position. Her uniform reminded him of Councilwoman Joohyun’s fashion. Grey and linear, but less in a drab way and more like the blade of a guillotine. 

Hakyeon reached into his inner coat pocket, tugging out his passbook and handing it, leather case and all, to the receptionist. Kyungsoo and, after a moment of fumbling, Minseok did the same.

She opened them, putting their information into her system one after the other, before finally handling them all back in a stack and saying, “You’re expected.”

 _Yes_ , Hakyeon thought sourly, _I’m aware_. He tucked his passbook back into his coat even as she was giving Kyungsoo three card keys, and then waving them off.

Hakyeon grabbed the handle of his suitcase and followed Minseok and Kyungsoo down the wide hallway to the left, passing nothing but huge oil paintings of landscapes and intermittently placed potted plants as they headed for the double doors at the end. They were unlocked, and even before Minseok pushed it open Hakyeon could hear— life. Or un-life. No humans were allowed in Vrienyre.

But there were plenty of vampires. 

The room they walked into was cavernous, domed in shape, hallways branching off and other doorways leading in. No windows, never any windows, but the walls and ceiling gave way to tiled mosaics in splashes of vibrant colors, shimmering off the dim lighting that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. 

No one was waiting for them inside, Hakyeon didn’t think he was that important, and he didn’t recognize the vampires milling around, the group talking by the pretentious fountain in the middle of the room. The splashing of the water echoed loudly, almost too much. 

It wasn’t Hakyeon’s first time here. And it probably wouldn’t be his last.

The dread was settling, heavy, in his stomach once more. 

“Let’s find our rooms,” Kyungsoo said, examining the card keys in his hands. “These say we’re in the south wing—”

Hakyeon wished Kyungsoo’s calm was contagious. Or at the least, his pretense at calmness. Minseok didn’t seem all that bothered either, but Minseok never seemed bothered. It was one way to go through life. Hakyeon cared too much to never be bothered.

He _was_ frightened, he realized, following his maker down gaudy hallways, so far underground he’d never be able to run if he had to, trapped, trapped beneath tons of dirt and rock. They couldn’t punish him the way they had last time, even if he was found guilty. It would have to be something else. Hakyeon wished he knew what the nest was pressing for, what was on the table. He needed to figure out how he was going to play this, contrite, apologetic, perhaps.

No, he couldn’t playact like he regretted what he’d done. His actions had been rash, foolish, but he’d been protecting something dear to him. They shouldn’t have touched it. They shouldn’t have touched Taekwoon.

 _Will you miss me_ , Taekwoon had asked in that gentle voice of his, soft as a lover’s caress, those eyes unblinking and dark. Of all of Taekwoon’s redeeming attributes, it was his eyes that got to Hakyeon, always so intense, uptilted and beautiful. Hakyeon remembered them reflecting the stars, glassy and empty of all of Taekwoon’s fire.

Those eyes would haunt him, and he was determined to not regret his decisions. Not regret saving Taekwoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) ppl were wondering if i was alright and i am okay! with the comeback happening i was just v busy.   
>  2) ppl were also wondering where they cld check up on me to make sure i hadnt vaporized into the ether, and whether i have other places i can be reached at and i do have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/vixxoween). i do not talk abt fic on it but u can see me retweeting stuff and at the least know i am alive. i also have a [tumblr](http://spoopyvixx.tumblr.com/) but im rarely active on it anymore. and i recently made a [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/vixxoween) (for more personal/general kpop questions) and an [ask tumblr](http://inkin-asks.tumblr.com/) (for fic questions). SO. yes. how is that for choices.   
>  3) i've been perpetually annoyed by the writing of the earlier chapters and by how small they are in comparison to the more recent chapters so for the next few weeks im going to be reworking them and combining them. so if you come back here and want to reread and see there's suddenly only fourteen chapters instead of nineteen, it's ok, dont freak out. nothing is actually disappearing, im just combining earlier chapters to make them longer and more solid.   
>  4) again, i'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out and that it ended up being short it just... turned out this length and i didnt want to add filler scenes to it to pad it out. I'M REAL ANNOYED BY IT THO ESP CONSIDERING IM GOING TO BE WORKING ON THE EARLIER CHAPTERS TO MAKE THEM. NOT SHORT. THIS CHAPTER BETRAYED ME. DECEPTIOOOOOOOON DISGRAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [loud groaning noises] this chapter is 22k why am i so #extra. at least this time the length hopefully makes it worth the wait

Jaehwan stood by their new window, the lights in the living room all turned off so he could stare out onto their darkened front yard. The sky hinted at a new day, stars dimmed in a slowly paling sky. 

Soon he would have to retreat underground, save himself from the sunlight that could set fire to his bones and turn his blood to light. But for a few more moments he could stay here, in dimness as always, a stolen breath of peace.

His chilled fingers clutched onto his mug of tea, the steam of it fogging at the window’s pristine glass. The wards were so silent. After a night of incessant jangling spellwork around him, and a pounding, fluttery heart within, the quiet and stillness now was almost unnerving.

He took a long sip of his tea, letting the warmth of it spread through him. 

“You should have discussed it with me before you asked if we could go to their house,” Hongbin said from behind him, voice far enough away as to indicate he was standing at the mouth of the hallway.

Jaehwan didn’t turn around. He probably should have asked. But something in him had snapped, given way like a fissured dam and now the rushing river was set loose. Or perhaps, rather than something having broken, maybe something had sprouted, deeply rooted and planted by cold, immortal hands.

Gentle hands.

The sand in his hourglass was dropping, grain by grain, and he didn’t have much of it left. There was no time for waiting, for caution and fear. It was now, now, _now_. Or never. 

He was still afraid of dying, of pain, but he wasn’t afraid of much else anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehwan said in response, because it was all he could say. “You don’t have to come.”

There was a long pause. “Yes I do. You know I do.”

Yes, Jaehwan knew. 

He thought of Taekwoon, almost as familiar to Jaehwan as the feeling of his own beating heart. Taekwoon, suddenly so new, like he’d shed his skin and emerged bright and eerie and impossible and _more_. It was still Taekwoon, and underneath everything Jaehwan recognized that, but his eyes said no, no this is a stranger in familiar skin. 

Jaehwan supposed he’d get used to it. If he had enough time left to do so. And if not, well, he wouldn’t let this change things, not any more than it had to. He loved Taekwoon, just as he loved Hongbin. He wouldn’t let Taekwoon’s death get in the way of the fact that they were a family.

So they would go to the vampires’ house. They would learn of the vampires’ lives. It couldn’t be just Taekwoon, coming home and trying to wrap his old self around himself like an ill-fitting jacket. The moment Taekwoon had come into this living room, skin like marble, Jaehwan knew there could be no backtracking. Taekwoon had come back from the dead, returned to them, but in every way he’d taken their lives as they’d known them with him to the grave. 

It was on them, to step into his new world, as much as it was for him to fit back into theirs.

Jaehwan let his head thunk down onto the windowpane, the glass cold with winter on his skin. The sky had grown decidedly purplish, soft like murky waters.

“It’s not going away,” Jaehwan murmured, half to himself, half to Hongbin. “We decided— it was never even a question, bringing Taekwoon back into our lives, even though he’s— vampire.” How strange, how awful and almost grotesque that fact was. That Taekwoon, of all people, of the three of them, got turned into a vampire. “I’m choosing to step forward with it. This is his life now. We can’t keep ourselves separate from it.”

The quiet descended once more, and Jaehwan sipped at his tea. He knew Hongbin was still there, could almost hear his thoughts tumbling over themselves, rustling like leaves in a storm.

“I feel like,” Hongbin finally said, very softly, “you’ve given up.”

That hurt. Jaehwan was glad he was turned away, was glad the room was dark so he didn’t have to see his own reflection in the glass. He hadn’t given up. Not utterly. He’d simply begun accepting so much of the inevitable. That death was coming, etched into lines in Jaehwan‘s mind as a tarot card placed on a table cloth. That Taekwoon was changed, had been buried into the ground, his grave and chrysalis in tandem, and clawed out as something monstrous and glorious. That Sanghyuk— Sanghyuk—

“What does it feel like,” Jaehwan whispered. “Being bitten?”

He turned finally, looking over his shoulder, to Hongbin across the room. The whites of Hongbin’s eyes were stark. 

For a long moment, he thought Hongbin wouldn’t answer. But then he was opening his mouth and saying hoarsely, “It _hurts_.”

——

The sunlight felt abrasive, intrusive and stark in a way that Hongbin took personally. It scraped at his skin, something that should bring comfort and safety simply heralding solitude and ringing silence.

The house was so bright, and so quiet. Hongbin wasn’t dealing with it as well as he should, considering this was simply how it was now. It was like all his nightmares, alone in this space, seeming endlessly vast with him the only thing moving in it.

He sat at the kitchen table, breathing thickly. Jaehwan was here, tucked away in his charmed basement, alive. Hongbin wasn’t utterly alone. But it was a hollow comfort. Jaehwan wasn’t, couldn’t, stand by Hongbin’s side during the days, couldn’t help Hongbin bear the burden of being the only one left. Not when he was part of the burden.

Hongbin had never truly understood the weight Taekwoon had carried while alive. But now so much was on Hongbin, to keep things together, to make sure Jaehwan stayed safe and hidden, tucked away from a world that would imprison or kill him.

 _Taekwoon_ , Hongbin thought, chest aching with such acute longing he almost wanted to cry. It was too much. It was falling apart. _What does it feel like being bitten_.

It hurt, a sharp, invasive pain that sank under the skin and lingered. So why did Hongbin let it happen to him, over and over, Jaehwan had asked.

For Taekwoon. Because Taekwoon had needed it, and Hongbin would have given Taekwoon anything. And yes, yes for himself. Because vampires could give the bliss of numbing the mind like nothing else Hongbin had ever encountered. And then the high that followed, adrenaline and a racing heart, blood singing with the taint of it. 

He shouldn’t have said it. Jaehwan was a curious person, he’d want to see for himself, verify it all. But Hongbin didn’t think what he had to say mattered at all. It never had. Nothing he said would alter Jaehwan’s course, at this point.

Hongbin couldn’t keep him safe. He was going to fail, just as Taekwoon had. And he was so tired, a bone-deep weariness that made him feel ancient in a thin, papery way. Sleep hadn’t come, it hadn’t come and he had a shift soon. Calling out wasn’t an option. 

The roof above him, walls around him, felt like an anchor dragging him into crushing depths. They needed this house. For Jaehwan, they needed it. 

And so Hongbin sat at the feeble kitchen table, with its chipping corners and spindly legs. His fingertips pressed against the edges of the envelope in his hands, the pressure on his skin cruel. 

He couldn’t call out. In fact, he’d need to take more hours. 

They were going to lose the house because Hongbin couldn’t afford to keep it.

He shoved away from the table, angrily throwing the bill onto the counter. This wasn’t something he’d ever had to deal with before. Taekwoon had kept it hidden, how precariously they were getting by. Hongbin had known it wasn’t good. But he hadn’t truly realized how fucked they’d be if either of them lost their job. Or if one of them suddenly died.

He wondered if Taekwoon had even thought of this after he’d woken up dead. It already felt like Taekwoon was a step away, faded into a slightly different dimension. In ways, Taekwoon was more secure in death than he’d ever been in life.

Hongbin grasped at the back of one of the chairs, chest heaving. Jaehwan was dying. Hongbin had to hold this together, for as long as Jaehwan still lived. 

They had savings— for now. It would last them at least a bit more. After that, after that—

His hand snaked up to clutch at the junction of where his neck met his shoulder, teeth digging hard into his bottom lip.

After that, he’d figure things out. Because he had to.

——

The muffled sound of voices pulled Taekwoon from sleep. 

It couldn’t be very late— but then what would Taekwoon know, since vampire sleep was still foreign to him. He just knew he felt sticky-tired, and he pushed himself into a sitting position with a groan, limbs heavy.

Wonshik’s low timbre rumbled like a distant earthquake through Taekwoon’s door, too far for Taekwoon to make out the words through the charm on his door. Someone else was here, someone human, their heartbeat was faint and fast and made Taekwoon’s fangs extend with anticipation. Even though he didn’t know that they were there for him.

He got up, striding to the door and pulling his tank top down over his stomach from where it had ridden up in his sleep. The doorknob turned, but the door itself didn’t budge, didn’t even shake in its frame when he pulled. The charm must still be hanging on the other side of it; usually Hakyeon, earliest to rise, pulled the charm off before Taekwoon ever woke. So Taekwoon didn’t feel trapped. Didn’t feel like a prisoner. But tonight, Hakyeon wasn’t here. He was in the vampire city, to face his trial. Whatever that would entail.

Taekwoon knocked on the door, trying not to feel frightened. “Wonshik?” he called loudly. “Sanghyuk?” 

The sound of voices stopped, and it took mere seconds for the door to swing open, wrenching out of Taekwoon’s hand. With it open, the sound of a human heartbeat flooded in, overwhelming and calling. 

Wonshik was grimacing, the charm hanging from braided rope in his hands. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I forgot to take it off when I woke up.”

Taekwoon pressed his hands to the doorframe, shivering. “If the human isn’t for me,” he whispered, letting his head fall forward and knock against his hands, “then you should probably take your conversation outside the house.”

Wonshik paused, surveying him. He stuffed the charm in his back pocket, idle. “He’s for you,” he finally said. “Sort of. He’ll let you feed. Come.”

Carefully, Wonshik wrapped his hand around Taekwoon’s elbow. It was clear he was gauging Taekwoon, trying to take stock of his control. Taekwoon appreciated it, though he wished— he wished Hakyeon were here. He didn’t know Wonshik as well, couldn’t trust him, couldn’t let himself be easy around Wonshik like he could around Hakyeon.

Taekwoon was a long way off from utterly trusting Hakyeon, but he knew, at the least, that Hakyeon prioritized Taekwoon’s wellbeing. He could trust that if nothing else. 

But Wonshik and Sanghyuk, Taekwoon wasn’t so sure of them yet.

“What time is it,” Taekwoon found himself asking thickly as Wonshik tugged him forward, down the hall. The others— Hongbin and Jaehwan—

“Early,” Wonshik said gently. “This won’t be interrupted, don’t worry. Sanghyuk has only just left to fetch Hongbin and Jaehwan.”

Taekwoon swallowed. They came into the living room, its windows softly lit with artificial lights. It was good his family wasn’t here yet, wouldn’t see this. Even if had been safe. Which, truthfully, it probably wasn’t.

Junmyeon, who’d been sitting on the couch, stood as they entered, then seemed to think better of it, and sat back down. Taekwoon stuttered when he saw him, a bit wrong-footed, but Wonshik’s grip on his upper arm continued to draw him forward. 

“I thought he was your accountant,” Taekwoon said softly. He sat beside Junmyeon on the couch, listened to his heartbeat. It was going fast, but not rabbit-fast. Not terrified-fast. Taekwoon watched as Junmyeon rubbed his hands down his thighs, wiping sweaty palms off on his jeans.

“He is,” Wonshik said. He sat on the edge of the coffee table, knees knocking against Taekwoon’s. “The feeder Hakyeon arranged for tonight seemed to think better of her decision to let a newborn feed from her. Junmyeon is here as a favor.”

“I’m not getting paid enough for the odds and ends part of this job,” Junmyeon said, voice tight. Taekwoon eyed him, not relishing the idea of biting a human that wasn’t willing. Junmyeon glanced at his face, meeting his eyes for a skittering second, then looked away as he reached for the buttons of his crisp white shirt. White was a dangerous color.

Junmyeon’s collar fell open as his top buttons were undone, and Taekwoon, with effort, looked away from the newly revealed paleness of his throat. He looked at Wonshik instead. “I don’t want to feed on an unwilling human,” Taekwoon murmured. “We can postpone the visit.” He almost wished they would. He wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with the idea of Jaehwan and Hongbin here, in this house that was almost a tomb. Especially without Hakyeon here to act as anchor and mediator. 

Wonshik met his eyes for a moment, then pointedly glanced away, eyes cool as they landed on Junmyeon. “He’s plenty willing, from the looks of it,” he said, and Taekwoon followed his lead and turned.

Taekwoon wouldn’t be Junmyeon’s first. The collared shirt, even unbuttoned to mid-chest, didn’t gape overmuch, but Taekwoon could see healing bite marks peppered over the base of Junmyeon’s neck. And hickies. Junmyeon’s cheeks were pink, elbows tucked in and knees together, like he wanted to curl up and disappear.

“Does Kyungsoo know?” Wonshik asked him. Junmyeon shook his head, and Wonshik frowned. “Is it someone you shouldn’t be fucking?”

Junmyeon’s blush deepened, cheeks a painful red. “It’s Jongdae,” Junmyeon said, lips barely moving. Taekwoon, even through the fog, felt his eyebrow raise. He wondered— wondered about the psychology of humans who worked for vampires. With vampires. He wondered if they all just craved the high. The high of power or money or sex. Or all three. It was all so very far removed from what he’d been as a human, he had trouble wrapping his head around it. 

“Oh,” Wonshik said mildly. “You—” He cut off, eyes dropping to Taekwoon’s parted lips, the fangs he could probably see from between them. Taekwoon knew his eyes were glazing over, could almost feel the fog like tendrils snaking through his skull. The corners of Wonshik’s mouth tightened. “Hakyeon will have questions for you, when he returns.”

“Of course,” Junmyeon said stiffly. He angled himself towards Taekwoon, body as wooden as his voice. Even though his face was calm, wiped clean, his cheeks still burned red. “Well?”

Wonshik put his hand on Taekwoon’s knee, the cold of his fingers bleeding through Taekwoon’s pajama pants. Taekwoon wasn’t sure if he was trying to be comforting, reminding Taekwoon he was here to make sure nothing would go wrong. Or maybe it was a warning, to keep Taekwoon’s instincts in check. Taekwoon didn’t need to be reminded of either fact.

The others would be here soon. This needed to be done and cleaned up before then.

Taekwoon pressed Junmyeon against the back of the couch and gave up finding a fresh place to bite, fangs sinking in over an old healing wound. 

——

When Sanghyuk arrived at the more renovated side of the park, he found Jaehwan and Hongbin sitting on a bench near the jungle gym, waiting as they’d been told. There was a short lamp beside them, casting dim yellow light, and further down the path, another, and then another. Despite the lights, there were no other people in the park at this time of night. Sanghyuk had figured there wouldn’t be, but sometimes the occasional pack of teenagers got adventurous. The urge to utterly terrorize such daredevils was always strong, but as a rule they held off. It was better if no one knew vampires roamed these hills.

He made sure to come on them slowly, but Jaehwan still startled when he caught sight of him, head snapping to the side. Sanghyuk raised his hand in greeting and widened his stride. Hongbin scowled, but Jaehwan‘s shoulders relaxed and he smiled, brilliant and bright. “You scared me,” he called cheerfully. His breath puffed out in a visible cloud of steam. Sanghyuk hoped they hadn’t been waiting long.

“I’m sorry,” Sanghyuk said once he was stopped in front of them. He held his hand out, and Jaehwan took it, standing. Jaehwan’s fingers were cold, so Sanghyuk made sure his own were warm for him. 

Hongbin’s eyes had gone squinty. His hands were stuffed into his coat pockets, and judging from their ridgy outlines, they were fisted. “Where exactly are we going?”

Sanghyuk though about making some kind of vague quip. _To our home_. He discarded the idea. “Towards the trails into the hills,” he said, gesturing at where the grassy slopes of the park began to incline. Hongbin turned to where Sanghyuk had motioned, brow still furrowed, and Sanghyuk looked down at Jaehwan, whose cheeks were pinkened with cold. “Can you walk? Or would it be better if I carried you?”

“I can walk,” Jaehwan said, his eyes unusually bright. He looked beyond Sanghyuk’s face, at the sky, the stars reflecting over his dark irises. “I’d like to walk. I don’t get to go out very often.”

Sanghyuk squeezed his hand. “We’ll take it easy,” he said, pulling Jaehwan into a gentle pace. His gaze flickered down, noting that both the humans were wearing appropriate walking shoes. He’d still probably have to help them both through the underbrush when they eventually made their way off the trails. But for now, there was packed earth flanked by browning grass to follow. 

Jaehwan seemed— good. For lack of a better word. He used Sanghyuk for some support, but being in the outside air, under the open sky, seemed to be making him bloom like a previously wilted bud. Even despite the chilly air. Sanghyuk wondered if it was because they were going to see Taekwoon, or if Jaehwan, a naturally curious person, was excited at the prospect of a sort-of discovery. A vampire home.

Or maybe it was for the simple fact that Jaehwan was outside, was away from the cage he spent most of his time in. 

Hongbin, on the other hand, followed behind them at a measured pace, the slapping sounds of his footfalls indicative of the fact that he was probably stomping. And also most likely glowering to accompany it. Sanghyuk made sure to note his position, and keep an ear out for anything else creeping up on them. He didn’t want Hongbin, straggling behind, to get snatched by anything. Not that there was, theoretically, the risk of other vampires wandering around out here. But there were other things, namely weres. He didn’t want to think about how Hongbin’s temperament would mesh with being bitten by a were-skunk. That was something none of them needed in their lives.

“Here,” Sanghyuk said, stopping. Jaehwan’s chest was rising and falling visibly, breath lightly panting out of him. They were on a minor incline, the treads of their shoes digging into dirt and small stones. This wasn’t the way Sanghyuk normally went, but when coming and going from the home normally, he would flit over the underbrush, careful to not disturb the shrubbery, to not leave footprints. But Hongbin and Jaehwan couldn’t do that, so they’d go around a bit— here there was a natural parting of the greenery due to a smattering of rocks embedded in the earth. The moss overlaying them was browning in winter’s cold. “Watch your footing.”

Jaehwan heavily used Sanghyuk’s hand in his, bent at the waist for balance. The rocks weren’t loose, just uneven, and Sanghyuk led him slowly through until they were completely under the canopy of the trees, moon and starlight blocked out.

“I can’t see,” Hongbin complained, picking his way behind them on his own. Sanghyuk grabbed his upper arm with his free hand to steady him, and Hongbin flinched, but didn’t pull away. 

“The ground gets flatter,” Sanghyuk said, low and reassuring. He felt Jaehwan’s fingers tighten on his own and suppressed the slight thrill that went down his spine. “From here you mostly just have to watch out for tree roots, and we’ll go slow.”

Hongbin’s face was twisted, but he let himself be led, they both did. Their hearts were going quickly, and where Jaehwan’s seemed to be pounding more from exertion, Hongbin had the acrid scent of fear around him. 

There was no point saying this wasn’t a trap, that it was safe. The fact of it would be obvious soon enough.

“Where—” Hongbin began, irritation thick in his voice to cover up his discomfort. It was the Hongbin way of things. Sanghyuk pitied Wonshik. 

“Here,” Sanghyuk said. He let them both go in favor of pushing aside some fern branches, to reveal the opening of the tunnel that led down into the earth. To their home. He heard Hongbin suck in a breath, while Jaehwan exhaled. “It’s sloped, and slippery.” He straightened, letting the fern fall back into place. “I’ll need to carry you.”

Jaehwan moved, holding his arms away from his body so Sanghyuk could grab him around the middle, even as Hongbin skittered back and said, “No.” 

Sanghyuk slid his arm around Jaehwan’s waist, tugged him nearer, heard Jaehwan’s breathing hitch. Of course Hongbin wouldn’t want Sanghyuk picking him up and carting him anywhere. The last time he had done so had been in the aftermath of Taekwoon’s death, Hongbin crying and squirming. It would be difficult to carry both of them if one was struggling, so Sanghyuk simply lifted Jaehwan off the ground and flickered into the tunnel, putting him down outside the door to their home, heavy metal embedded in the concrete and stone.

“Wait here and don’t move,” Sanghyuk murmured gently, making sure Jaehwan was steady before he stepped away.

Jaehwan’s heart was racing. “Yes,” he whispered, and Sanghyuk flickered back to the entrance of the tunnel, where Hongbin was already trying to come down, the soles of his sneakers sliding against the floor. It was damp down here, water leaking from between the cracks in the stones, and on the floor it turned icy, slippery. Sanghyuk watched as Hongbin, already half bent over, lost his footing and fell half on his hip, half on his ass, sliding a measure down deeper into the tunnels. He was panting, and probably not just from exertion.

“Are you claustrophobic?” Sanghyuk asked. Hongbin jerked, head whipping up, as if he hadn’t heard Sanghyuk return. He probably hadn’t. Judging by the way his gaze skittered over Sanghyuk, unfocused, his human eyes couldn’t see in this darkness either. 

“No,” Hongbin said shortly. “I can’t fucking _see_.”

“I’m going to pick you up,” Sanghyuk said simply, because Hongbin was trying to stand back up and he was likely to tip over and fall on his stubborn head.

“I don’t want—” Hongbin cut off as Sanghyuk grabbed him under the arms, easily lifting him bodily off the floor and flittering away with him to where Jaehwan was waiting, patiently. Jaehwan jumped when they returned, because Hongbin’s feet hitting the ground made a noise, sudden. “Let me go.”

Sanghyuk did so, and Hongbin stepped away quickly and ran into the wall, shoulder impacting. “There will be light in the house,” Sanghyuk said, soft. He hoped Taekwoon would have fed by now, would be in control— but he knew the wards had heralded their arrival. If Taekwoon wasn’t safe, the door would be barred. And when Sanghyuk put his hand on the knob, it tingled in recognition of him and turned without issue. So that was answer enough.

When he pulled open the door soft yellow light spilled into the tunnels, and he squinted, stepping forward and holding the door open for the humans. Taekwoon’s meal hadn't left yet; Sanghyuk could hear the extra heartbeat. 

Jaehwan and Hongbin followed Sanghyuk in, moving to the balustrade of the loft, and Sanghyuk let the door slam shut behind them. He looked down with them, out onto the living room, and saw Junmyeon staring up from the base of the stairway, frozen. Wonshik and Taekwoon were somewhere else, deeper in the house. 

“I was just leaving,” Junmyeon called up, carefully stepping onto the first stair, then the second, as if he expected Sanghyuk to protest. His collar was slightly crinkled, but any evidence was covered.

Sanghyuk raised his eyebrow. “Everything go alright?”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon said, slightly breathless at the top of the stairs. He avoided all their eyes, lips a bit pale. “Yeah, it went fine.” He definitely had more to add, Sanghyuk could tell, but Junmyeon wasn’t the sort of person to really blather on about personal matters to people he wasn’t close to.

 _He’s not used to being used as a sustenance feeder_ , Sanghyuk could guess well enough. Junmyeon slipped past them all, murmuring indistinct greetings as he passed Hongbin and Jaehwan. Hongbin watched him with sharp eyes, and Jaehwan made a sort of noncommittal greeting in return. He stopped his burbling once the door slammed shut behind Junmyeon, leaving the three of them alone.

Jaehwan turned from the door to Sanghyuk, his delicate features somber. Sanghyuk knew this part of things would be difficult. 

“That was Taekwoon’s dinner, wasn’t it,” Hongbin asked bluntly, and Jaehwan winced. “Or I guess breakfast, for your kind—”

“Yes,” Sanghyuk said, loudly, maybe jarringly. It shut Hongbin up, mouth snapping closed even if his upper lip curled. “Taekwoon is a vampire now. He drinks blood to live. This is the reality. His reality. Are you going to hold it against him?”

Hongbin crossed his arms over his chest, scowling down at the floor. “No,” he muttered, “no, I—” He stopped, rolling his shoulders as if in discomfort. 

“It’s just hard to face it so directly,” Jaehwan said softly. He looked up at Sanghyuk through his pale lashes, smiling in a small, tremulous way. “For Hongbin, I think, because he’s been on the receiving end of it from a lot of vampires who weren’t so— human.”

“Jaehwan,” Hongbin said harshly, face turning a blotching red. “I know you want him to dick you but can you keep your big mouth—”

“Shut.” They all turned to see Wonshik at the base of the stairway. His voice rumbled like a distant thunderstorm, and he walked up the stairs as he spoke. “You’re loud, your voices carry. This isn’t the time nor place to spit your venom.”

Hongbin’s cheeks were still red, eyes sparking, and — Sanghyuk noted — sparkling. Jaehwan’s cheeks were tinted pink as well, and Sanghyuk wasn’t sure if it was because he was angry too, or if it was due to embarrassment from Hongbin’s comment. 

“Where’s Taekwoon?” Sanghyuk muttered. That seemed pressing.

“Washing up.” Wonshik looked tired. He stood in front of Hongbin with a hand on his hip, levelling meeting Hongbin’s eyes. “Hongbin.”

Hongbin turned away from them abruptly, towards the door, and his chest heaved with his breathing. Jaehwan opened his mouth, eyes concerned, and Sanghyuk took him gently by the upper arm. When Jaehwan looked at him, Sanghyuk wordlessly shook his head. His hand slid around, moving over Jaehwan’s lower back to hold onto his waist. Jaehwan grasped his intent and relaxed against him, so when Sanghyuk scooped him up and into his arms Jaehwan went like a doll. 

Though a few moments later Jaehwan did tense a bit when, instead of going down the stairs, Sanghyuk simply opted to leap over the balustrade and fall the twenty feet down into their living room. He made a noise, a small peep, but then composed himself and laughed nervously. 

Sanghyuk wanted to kiss him. But now was not the moment. 

He set Jaehwan down on the leather sofa, and thin as he was, the cushions still happily gave under his weight. “You alright?” Sanghyuk asked, still bent over, face close to Jaehwan’s. 

“Yes,” Jaehwan said, and Sanghyuk wanted to think he meant it. He leaned back, blinking, cheeks still pink. Sanghyuk didn’t miss the moment when Jaehwan’s gaze dropped to his mouth. He opted to not say anything about it, tucking the fact of it away for his own pleasure later, and stepped away smartly. He heard Jaehwan exhale shakily. 

There were murmurings coming from the loft above them. Murmurings too soft for Jaehwan to make out with any distinction. Sanghyuk, if he had any inclination to eavesdrop, easily could have. But he did not. He could see the backs of their heads, Wonshik and Hongbin, Wonshik’s head bent close to Hongbin’s. 

_Better him than me_ , Sanghyuk thought. 

Jaehwan was staring around owlishly. The window lights were on, sending diffused warm light throughout the room. Beyond the archway under the loft the kitchen was dim, their chrome appliances reflecting the light in fragments, and above them, the ceiling faded off into darkness. But Sanghyuk imagined Jaehwan could get the gist of it all well enough, even if he couldn’t see every detail.

“Mm?” Sanghyuk hummed, moving around to the other side of the coffee table, just to pace more than anything else.

“It isn’t what I expected,” Jaehwan said, twisted at the waist to stare over the back of the sofa at the darkened kitchen. His gaze moved along the wall, over the packed bookshelves, the open mouth of the hallway.

Sanghyuk intercepted his gaze, happy to find Jaehwan’s eyes bright again. “What did you expect?” Sanghyuk asked. He noted the sound of running water had stopped. Taekwoon would emerge soon. Hopefully free of any bloodstains. 

“I— I don’t know, really,” Jaehwan said. It was nice, to have Jaehwan looking into his eyes, right into his eyes. He was doing it more of late. “I was kinda envisioning— it’s going to sound silly, but something like the stone catacombs of an old church.”

Sanghyuk smiled. Hongbin began to clomp down the stairs, so Sanghyuk spoke loudly to be heard over him. “It isn’t silly. Centuries ago many vampires did live under churches. It was the last place people would expect to find a vampire.”

“But places like that are dank and damp,” Wonshik added, leading Hongbin to the cluster of couches and armchairs. “And Hakyeon would never suffer such discomfort.” He motioned to an armchair, and Hongbin glared at him but flopped back into it, irreverent and somehow defiant in his sprawl. 

“Where is Hakyeon, by the way?” Hongbin asked, clearly able to pick out Hakyeon’s absence as a bruise to be pressed upon. “I noticed him sneaking out last night, you know.”

Wonshik sighed. “Of course you did.” He sounded exasperated but also vaguely fond. Just a hint, a whisper of it. Sanghyuk wondered if Wonshik even noticed it was there. 

Hongbin cocked an eyebrow at Wonshik, expectant and ready to fight. Ready to prod and poke until someone snapped.

Taekwoon chose that moment to walk in, clothed in a navy sweater and torn jeans, hair a feathery tumble. “Hakyeon’s taking care of personal business,” he said in that soft cadence of his. It carried well in the large space. Hongbin sat up straight, head whipping around to look at him, and much of the hostility in his frame evaporated as if it had never been. “I’m sorry I— you were earlier than I expected.” 

Hongbin’s throat moved as he swallowed. “Jaehwan was antsy to get out of the house.” 

Taekwoon padded over silently, his bare feet whispering over the hardwood floors. The way he sauntered was an echo of Hakyeon, lazy and predatory, like a jungle cat. Sanghyuk could hear the uptick in the pace of the humans’ hearts. Taekwoon brought them the comfort of home, Sanghyuk could feel it warring with what their eyes told them, with the shape of Taekwoon’s new skin. 

Hongbin held still as Taekwoon touched him, running slender fingers through Hongbin’s dark brown hair and ruffling it, like Hongbin was a small child. Taekwoon’s mouth quirked, a little, and it was slightly rueful. The flush of pink on his cheeks, lips red with it, was deceiving. It made him look more alive than he was. Hongbin scowled up at him, flattening his hair back down.

“It’s strange to see you here,” Taekwoon said softly. He pulled back from Hongbin, putting his hands into his pockets. “Making trouble.”

Hongbin blushed a little, slouching back into his seat once more. “You invited us.” 

“I did,” Taekwoon said. He looked to Jaehwan, everything about him softening— the line of his shoulders, the set of his jaw, and his eyes. “I thought you might like to see.”

Jaehwan met his eyes for a moment, a sweet sort of tenderness on his own face. Then he looked up, casting his gaze to the corners of the room. “It’s— it seems like a nice place,” Jaehwan said. “A bit more _Better Homes and Gardens_ than I had anticipated.”

That made Taekwoon smile, a little secret smile that he tried to hide by ducking his face down. “Yeah,” he murmured, a bit husky, “Hakyeon is— he’s— yeah.” 

Jaehwan seemed to note Taekwoon’s words as an addition to absorbing the sight of the decor. His eyes were fixed on the fake windows, their gentle glow, and he nodded a little as if, of course, Hakyeon would want such fixings in his home.

Hongbin though was staring right at Taekwoon, and the set of his mouth was unkind as he took in the way Taekwoon’s lips shaped around Hakyeon’s name, voice curling around the syllables tenderly.

Taekwoon did not see the way Hongbin was staring at him, his gaze was turned inwards, and then he was shaking himself, and by the time he lifted his face, Hongbin’s expression was a bit wooden, but not unduly so. “We have drinks,” Taekwoon said, one shoulder moving in a semblance of a shrug. The awkwardness in the air would need time to dissipate, and Taekwoon didn’t seem like the sort of person adept at handling such things. He was trying, though. The effort wasn’t lost on Sanghyuk, nor Hongbin, it seemed, judging by the heavy sigh he heaved out.

“We don’t drink blood,” Hongbin snarked out, but it was said— like it was a duty. Hongbin playing along with his role. In his way, he was throwing Taekwoon a lifeline. This could all go so bad. Before Taekwoon had emerged, it almost had.

It was an indication of Hongbin’s affection for Taekwoon, that he seemed to want this to go well. 

“We have soda,” Wonshik rumbled.

Hongbin glared at him sourly. “Do you have vodka to go with it?”

Wonshik’s eyes closed, and his nostrils flared on a long inhale. “We have whiskey, but it isn’t for children,” he said when he opened his eyes again, and smiled sharply. 

Hongbin blinked, mouth curling into a snarl that was, somehow, halfway to being a vicious smile. Meanwhile, Taekwoon had sat on the couch by Jaehwan’s feet, and had decidedly tuned out Hongbin and Wonshik in favor of absorbing Jaehwan’s new features.

It was going to be a night, Sanghyuk could tell. It just— just was.

——

Hakyeon woke repulsively early, even by his own standards. The sun was probably barely kissing the horizon, but a combination of nerves and the unfamiliar surroundings dragged Hakyeon back into consciousness.

His eyes snapped open and he sat up, shedding any tendrils of grogginess off with movement. The room was as he’d found it last night, clean and crisp and impersonal. He tapped the base of the lamp on the nightstand as he got out of bed, to give himself some light. It wasn’t truly necessary, but the amber glow of it was a comfort. 

The carpet under his feet was uneven with a grooved, swirling pattern of leaves and vines. There were live red tulips in a transparent glass vase sitting on the dresser, beside Hakyeon’s cell phone. Well, live in the sense that they were real. Cleanly cut stems, no roots, they’d die fast. They were put in the room for him, probably very soon before he’d arrived. A superfluous touch, the only pop of color in a room that otherwise matched a slice of tiramisu. Creams and beiges and browns. 

Hakyeon wanted to go home.

One text message, from Wonshik, letting Hakyeon know they’d gotten home safely. _Jaehwan and Hongbin are coming over the house tomorrow night_ , Wonshik finished the message off with. Hakyeon’s mouth twisted, stomach plummeting a little. 

_Make sure Taekwoon feeds first_ , was all Hakyeon had the energy to send back.

There was so much looming over him. He put his phone back on the dresser and scrubbed his hands over his face roughly, breathing slowly through his nose. His shirt first— it had wrinkles. He should iron his pants too. God forbid his clothes have creases when he faced the Magister. 

Over an hour later, after he was scrubbed and combed, his body tucked into crisp grey slacks and a dusty pink button-down shirt, a knock fell on his door. Hakyeon inhaled, bracing, hand pressing his stomach as if he’d been dealt a knife wound, was trying to keep himself from spilling out. Then he straightened his spine and strode to answer the door.

It was Kyungsoo, as expected, Minseok hovering behind him. Kyungsoo’s eyes swept over Hakyeon’s frame, a frown crinkling his soft brow, like a ripple in icing. “You look like a confection,” Kyungsoo muttered, mouth pinched in displeasure. 

It was probably because of the pink. Hakyeon thought his attire was not currently of utmost importance. He also thought that Kyungsoo, in black pants and a white shirt with a band collar, looking for all the world like a dewy skinned schoolboy of fifteen, had no rights to be criticising Hakyeon’s appearance. 

Hakyeon stepped out of his room, letting the door close behind him. The automatic lock ground on itself as it turned, beeping. “I look like myself,” Hakyeon said simply, and Kyungsoo huffed but raised no real protests. Hakyeon’s eyes fell on the vanilla folder in Minseok’s arms. Unease unfurled, snaking tendrils around Hakyeon’s limbs. “What’s that?”

They began walking. Minseok shifted the folder in his arms, holding it out a bit. “More details of the case,” Minseok replied. He adjusted the glasses on his face, round frames and thin wires, and Hakyeon had the urge to snatch them off and throw them into a wall. They were affectation, and Hakyeon didn’t like that Minseok was having enough fun to playact. 

“Anything I should know about?” Hakyeon asked, looking ahead of himself and shoving down the urge to break things, to scream and run back to his gifted room. It wouldn’t do to appear ruffled. 

It was Kyungsoo who answered. Because he was leading them, all Hakyeon could see was the back of his head. “The nest is in factions,” he said, tone giving nothing away. “Perhaps some are— reasonable. But as it is, the members that are pursuing this case aren’t. They’ve made it a point to file this not as a unit.”

“So that way if they lose the case, and things turn unfavorably for them, the entire nest won’t take the fall,” Hakyeon finished, able to guess well enough. “How many are there?”

“Sitting against you? Two,” Kyungsoo said. Around them, the hallway had widened and finally opened, once more, into the large dome of the main hall. The fountain was definitely grating, the splashing of water loud and echoing along with the voices of the vampires moving about. “But there’s others here, to watch the proceedings. It is hard to know how deeply rooted in the nest this vendetta goes.”

“Of course,” Hakyeon said numbly. Of course. 

Hakyeon continued to follow after Kyungsoo, even though he knew well enough where he was going. If he could dream, he’d have dreamed of this place, these hallways with their stone walls and ambient light. Living over and over this long walk, trapped in dread and fear and guilt. 

Dreams. No, a nightmare.

The doors began, all of them doubled and thick, rough wood panels and chunky iron hinges. Hakyeon had to fight not to stop, not to crumple under the weight of all the earth and stone around and above him. There were people here, loitering in this wide hallway, some of them were surely people who would watch his trial. They passed several Council members standing in a tightly knit group, clad in steely grey. He couldn’t crack. Not here. Not yet.

It was the only courtroom with its doors flung wide, waiting like a beast’s open maw. A gaggle of— very young looking vampires were standing beside it, murmuring amongst themselves. Young in their bodies, their faces, but not so in their minds. Turned young. Raised vicious. They fell silent as Kyungsoo swept past them, their eyes trained on Hakyeon with the sharpness of a blade. He didn’t give them anything more than a cool glance. 

The sight of the courtroom was like a slap to Hakyeon’s senses. He found himself profoundly grateful that he didn’t have a beating heart, for it would surely be going rabbit-fast, making him feel faint, like he was suffocating. 

He already felt like he was drowning.

It wasn’t the same room as— before, but it may as well have been, all of them mirrored in design. Round in shape, the ceiling so high above as to have disappeared into the darkness, seats all the way around the walls in three tiered rows. Directly opposite to the doors, the seats cumlinated in a raised podium, where the Magister would sit. Hakyeon walked as if in a daze down the steps, to the pit in the center of the room, where all the seats looked down upon. A single chair waited for him there, spaced precisely in the middle of the organic pattern the tiles made of the floor. It was dark wood, sturdy with wrought iron accents like the doors. 

There were no silver chains threaded through the iron eyelets inset into the limbs of the chair. Hakyeon supposed he should be thankful for small mercies.

Hakyeon didn’t sit, not yet, simply rested his hand lightly on the back of the chair. He wanted to think he looked aloof. Centuries of learning to control his expression, and he had an unpleasant feeling it was for naught. It was too much. The podium was carved with flowers and vines, finely detailed, every tile beneath Hakyeon’s shoes artfully placed. Culture and craft, a pretense at civility. It hid how brutal this place was, how brutal his kind could be.

Kyungsoo and Minseok were taking seats to Hakyeon’s right, in the box of seats designated for one half of the witnesses. Minseok had the blasted file in his lap. Hakyeon wished he had asked to look in it. Behind them, people were moving, filing in and moving to their places. Four Council members came in and they sat two by two on either side of the Magister’s podium, today’s presiding Panel. Hakyeon only recognized Councilwoman Joohyun, and she didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest.

Four. Four was a good number, Hakyeon thought as he stared up at them. Less severe cases didn’t need any Council members at all, would simply be put on the shoulders of a Magister. And then cases that were deemed— difficult, would have more. Last time, there’d been eight.

Two vampires were taking seats in the witness box opposite Kyungsoo and Minseok. They also had the look of having turned young, in their late teens, perhaps. The girl’s hair was slicked back in a mimicry of the style the female Council members usually wore, the severity of it looked strange around her youthful face. Her eyes slid over Hakyeon, heady-lidded and cold, but they didn’t linger. If she was frost, her companion was roiling fire. He couldn’t hide his contempt as she could, or he simply didn’t feel the need to bother. He’d been turned a bit older, perhaps around the same age Hakyeon had been, and his angular face and sharp cheekbones only served to amplify his aura of derision. 

There were others, but only a handful. Some uninvested, come just to witness this as if it were a spectator sport. Others not so. The group of teenagers had come in, five of them, and they sat near the witness box to Hakyeon’s left, belying their membership to the nest. There was a girl among them whose round face and wide eyes made Hakyeon feel vaguely ill. All of them looked too young to have been turned.

It bred the worst sort of disposition. Children fostered in blood and chaos created vicious, wild vampires. 

Hakyeon’s eyes swept over them, the corners of his mouth tightening. He didn’t know what they wanted, what they were pursuing. Punishment, yes. But he didn’t know, specifically, what sort.

The male vampire in the witness box was still staring at Hakyeon, hatred so concentrated it could be bottled. And Hakyeon had thought Taekwoon had a glare that could strip paint.

He knew what they were going to ask for, what the folder in Minseok’s arms said. It would be death. They would want him dead for what he’d done.

_They’re in factions. If they lose the case, and things turn unfavorably for them, the entire nest won’t take the fall._

Four Council members didn’t say that today would end in an execution. But all that meant was that after Hakyeon left here, he’d be waiting for a knife to his back. A knife that might not come down for years, decades, centuries.

The nest had so many people to take up that torch.

Everyone stood when the Magister walked in, heads swivelling to note her progress. Hakyeon knew her face; turned in middle age, a grey streak through her hair, she’d been on his Panel last time. Somewhere in the last fifty years it seemed she’d gotten a promotion. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that fact, that she was— well. 

Hakyeon wasn’t a fool, he knew his record would be drudged up, used to try and drag him through the dirt. But at least when his that happened, this Magister would know all the details of it firsthand. She would not be swayed by embellishments. Perhaps this was an advantage. 

He wondered who’d decided to put her on this case. His eyes slid to Kyungsoo, but his maker’s face, as boyish as those of the nest members, was placid as a statue’s.

The Magister took her seat behind the podium, scooting in and delicately rearranging the papers in front of her, papers that Hakyeon, from his low vantage point, couldn’t see. 

When she tossed her wrist up, flicking her sleeve back so as to check the time on her watch, Hakyeon finally came around and let himself sit in his hard wooden chair. No padding, just sanded and polished wood, but he leaned back in it, crossing one knee over the other in what he hoped was an elegant sprawl. His hands in his lap were clenched.

“I think we’re ready to begin,” the Magister called, and the room fell silent but for the very soft sounds of people settling back into their seats. She gestured lazily towards the back of the room, and Hakyeon heard the doors shut behind him, grating and heavy and final.

——

“But really, where _is_ Hakyeon?”

Jaehwan winced a little at Hongbin’s caustic tone, able to tell well enough that Hakyeon’s absence probably wasn’t a good topic to fixate on when everything felt precarious, somehow. But Jaehwan also had to admit he was curious.

Hongbin took a sip of his soda, lemon lime, and raised his eyebrows at the vampires in challenge. Taekwoon stared back at him, then flicked his eyes to Jaehwan, almost guiltily.

So, it was a secret. Even from them. That was a strange sensation. 

“Do you remember the night Taekwoon died?” It was Sanghyuk who spoke, from his place on the arm of the couch by Jaehwan’s head. The question was aimed at Hongbin. 

Hongbin’s hand around his cup trembled as he lowered it, eyes flashing dangerously. “Yes.”

Jaehwan wasn’t sure where this was going, but he put his fingertips on Sanghyuk’s thigh, a warning and a plea. He was too tired emotionally to deal with any fighting. This already all felt so strange, Taekwoon and Hongbin in a room with Jaehwan and Sanghyuk. It felt like two halves of Jaehwan’s life of late were clashing, but in a quiet, insidious way. 

And, well, Wonshik was there too, but he was loitering by the kitchen, in the darkness. He didn’t count, was neutral ground. 

“Do you remember the other vampires?” Sanghyuk continued, calm and yet still relentless. “The ones we killed?” Hongbin’s gaze went a bit unfocused, like he was seeing it all again in his mind. Taekwoon stared down at the floor, expression shuttered. “There’s laws about vampire on vampire violence. Hakyeon is answering for it.” 

That took Jaehwan by surprise, and he was sure it showed on his face. Vampires had laws, and he supposed, that meant they had some kind of organized legal system. How very strange. When things were a bit calmer, he’d want to know more. 

Hongbin appeared to be turning Sanghyuk’s words over in his mind, elbows on his knees so his cup dangled between them. “He scared me that night,” Hongbin murmured finally. “Hakyeon.”

It was a small admission, but it made Jaehwan shudder all the same. “Why?” he asked. Not a whole lot of things scared Hongbin.

Hongbin looked at Taekwoon. “He was very angry,” he said distinctly. 

“Yes,” Taekwoon whispered. His fingers toyed with the edge of his blood bag— a rather macabre practice, drinking blood out of sealed plastic, storing it in the fridge next to the juice and soda. It made sense, but watching Taekwoon sip out of it really— brought some uglier things to the forefront. It felt indecent, somehow, to _watch_ Taekwoon drinking blood. “Hakyeon said he lost his temper.”

 _He’d wanted Taekwoon very badly_ , Jaehwan thought. By the looks of it, Hongbin was thinking the same thing, but for once he had the brains to keep his mouth shut. 

“He’ll be back tomorrow night,” Sanghyuk said, the gentle tone of his voice clearly leading them away from dangerous waters. Jaehwan felt Taekwoon trying to relax, fighting through whatever emotions were tumbling through him. Taekwoon had never been a good liar, nor had he truly mastered hiding his stronger emotions. 

Taekwoon had spent so many years hating vampires with an acidity that was downright destructive. And he’d spent nearly as many years hating himself, for the urgings of his own body. Jaehwan had watched, had waited and listened, but Taekwoon had always been so stubborn. 

So much had happened for them, for Jaehwan and Hongbin, since the night Taekwoon— died. It obviously followed then that Taekwoon too must have endured much, and most of it they would never know of. It was clear, at least, that Taekwoon’s relationship with Hakyeon had become— something. Something it hadn’t been before.

It felt bigger than Jaehwan could comprehend. That after so many years of denial and loathing, something could shake the foundations Taekwoon had been standing on his whole life. That Taekwoon had, finally, changed. Had chosen to change. Had let himself _be_ changed— but _Taekwoon_ falling in love with a man, with a vampire—

It was absolutely monumental, and Jaehwan wasn’t sure what to do with it, sitting on a plush couch in a room deep underground.

Sanghyuk touched his shoulder, very gently toying with the seam there. Maybe he had noted Jaehwan’s shortening breaths. If he had noticed, then Taekwoon might too.

“Do you have any bathrooms?” Jaehwan asked, pitching his voice so it wasn’t overly loud. He held up his empty cup, the last few drops of grape soda at the bottom swilling around. “I have to pee.”

“We do, actually, have bathrooms,” Taekwoon said. Jaehwan was slightly surprised, but definitely relieved. “It surprised me too.”

“We still _bathe_.” This came from Wonshik, echoing through the kitchen. 

“Will Jaehwan be made to pee in a shower stall?” Hongbin called, and Wonshik made an indignant noise.

Taekwoon was shaking his head, smiling like he was tired. “There’s toilets in some.” He made to move, shifting. “I’ll—”

“I’ll take him,” Sanghyuk said, sliding off the arm of the couch and onto his feet. He looked down at Taekwoon, face calm and voice light. “You need to keep Hongbin from eviscerating Wonshik.” 

Taekwoon appeared a bit taken aback, and he looked at Jaehwan, as if asking for Jaehwan’s input. “It’s fine, you don’t need to listen to me piss,” Jaehwan said, and Taekwoon wrinkled his nose. Jaehwan stood, and Sanghyuk put a hand on his elbow to steady him.

“I’ll take him to the one in the library— we might be a few extra moments, there’s a couple books on sorcery I want to show him,” Sanghyuk said, breezy. 

Jaehwan almost stuttered as he walked, but Sanghyuk was fast and strong and kept him moving smoothly. They were in the hallway by the time Taekwoon called back, “Make sure he doesn’t get his hands on anything dangerous.” There was nervousness in Taekwoon’s tone— of course he wouldn’t like the idea of Jaehwan being alone with Sanghyuk. But he wouldn’t like leaving Hongbin with Wonshik either. And of the two of them, Hongbin had the mouth that was most likely to get its owner slapped. So Hongbin was the one that was best left properly supervised. 

Jaehwan was glad for it. He needed a few minutes to get his thoughts in order, to feel— feel more solid. In ways, he felt like he was in a dream. Taekwoon was dead and falling in love with a vampire, and Jaehwan was being led into the depths of an underground lair by another vampire he may very well be falling in love with himself.

How things could change so drastically and so quickly, both in their circumstances and their minds, was something Jaehwan didn’t understand. 

The hallway had no lights on, so Jaehwan could only see using the residual light filtering in from the living room, and that did not give him much to go on. Sanghyuk pulled him to the side, through what Jaehwan could only assume was an open doorway. For a moment, there was just darkness, and then Sanghyuk flicked on a lightswitch and Jaehwan found himself blinking through a gentle amber glow. There was an electric chandelier, wrought iron, far above them, and under its sprawling light Jaehwan saw rows and rows of bookshelves, a large, heavy desk, and a small collection of low sofas. It smelled like paper, like dust, but it wasn’t dank or dirty at all. No cobwebs in sight.

Sanghyuk pushed Jaehwan’s shoulder gently, angling him towards a far bookshelf. “If you go to the end of that row, the bathroom is there,” he murmured. 

Jaehwan turned just enough to meet Sanghyuk’s eyes, then he pointedly looked at the heavy wooden door of the library, left open. Sanghyuk raised an eyebrow, mouth twisting in amusement, but he stepped back and carefully closed the library door, sealing them in with charms and each other. 

“I don’t need to pee,” Jaehwan explained. He slowly walked over to the desk, lightly touching the books laid upon it. There were candles too, a silver stamping tool, an inkpot and feather quill. It looked like a prop for a movie. “I just needed a moment to clear my head a little.”

Jaehwan sensed Sanghyuk moving, but when he turned to look, Sanghyuk had settled a bit of a distance away, leaning back against a bookshelf. He crossed his ankles, pausing for a moment to gauge Jaehwan’s face. “Yes,” he finally said. “Hongbin is in fine form tonight.”

He was giving Jaehwan an out from the elephant in the room. The elephant that was Taekwoon, Taekwoon dead and turning into someone Jaehwan didn’t know anymore. He was grateful for it. “Hongbin is always in fine form,” Jaehwan said, turning back to the desk. He reached out, touching the feather quill, and when Sanghyuk didn’t tell him to desist, he picked it up. It might have been an eagle feather, but what would Jaehwan know. The tip was wickedly sharp. “Hongbin, is— he’s young. He’s young and brash and headstrong.”

“Like you?”

Jaehwan felt himself pinkening, even to the tips of his ears. He didn’t want Sanghyuk to see, so he didn’t turn around. Perhaps he was brash, and headstrong, but— “I’m not that young. Not like Hongbin.”

“Oh?” And even in that simple sound, Jaehwan could hear Sanghyuk’s amusement, thick as buttercream. “Jae, how old are you? I can’t pin it down. You do look very young, but I know some of that must be the magic.”

Yes, Jaehwan looked— young, because of the magic, because of the illness. “I’m twenty-one this year.” It was a bit of a confession. He could feel Sanghyuk’s surprise. 

“You’re the same age I was when I met Hakyeon.”

Jaehwan turned from his examination of the feather quill, putting it down to look at Sanghyuk. “Really?” he asked, and Sanghyuk nodded, just a little, eyes alight with pleasure. “What was— how did you meet him? How did—” Jaehwan cut off, unsure how to phrase his question in a tactful way and instead opting to gesture at the length of Sanghyuk’s body to implicate his general vampireness. 

Sanghyuk grinned, the line of his teeth uneven because his fangs were slightly out. It was a bit unnerving, but also oddly charming, in a strange, roguish way. “I was but a simple farmer’s son, in the city for some trade,” he said, affecting a slight accent that Jaehwan couldn’t place. At Jaehwan’s unimpressed expression, Sanghyuk shook his head and looked away, across the room into the darkness. His grin softened, turning into a fond smile as he murmured, “Hakyeon was beautiful.” He stilled, and it was such an odd thing to see, because he hadn’t been really moving before, but the stillness of a vampire was different from the stillness of a human. It passed, the eerie moment breaking when he glanced at Jaehwan, face turning a little sheepish. “I mean, he still is. Beautiful. I just— I hadn’t seen a lot of the world, at the time. Things were different then. I’d never seen someone like Hakyeon before.”

Jaehwan could only imagine. The idea of Sanghyuk growing up in a small cottage, days spent under the baking sun, was so very odd. He would have been more likely to die from pneumonia than to ever come in contact with a vampire. “Someone like Hakyeon?” Jaehwan echoed. “You mean a vampire?”

“That too.” Sanghyuk pushed off from the bookcase, giving a sort of rolling shrug that was half a stretch. The fluidity of the motion made Jaehwan’s stomach drop. “He cornered me in an alleyway, and I knew— I knew this was probably the end, but when he looked at me, I couldn’t find it in myself to care.” He met Jaehwan’s gaze, eyes intense, and Jaehwan thought maybe, he could empathize with the human Sanghyuk had been. “But he didn’t kill me, just left me dazed and glamour-drunk in an alleyway. And I tried to forget him and couldn’t.”

It was hard, not to look away when Sanghyuk was looking at him like this, eyes unwavering, pinning Jaehwan to the spot as surely as his hands could. Jaehwan’s voice came out a little breathless when he asked, “Did you love him?”

“I did,” Sanghyuk whispered, the sound edging under Jaehwan’s skin and tingling. “I do.”

It felt like a confession, somehow, and one almost aimed at Jaehwan as much as to him. He felt color rising to his cheeks, his heart fluttering sweetly. “Why?” Jaehwan asked, imitating Sanghyuk’s soft tone. He really didn’t know much of Hakyeon, he realized. Other than that he’d made Sanghyuk, and Wonshik, and Taekwoon. Other than that he was old and laced up tightly, controlled and intelligent. Other than that he’d managed to get under Taekwoon’s armor.

He must be quite a person, Jaehwan realized.

The corner of Sanghyuk’s mouth quirked up, and even though his eyes were still on Jaehwan, they unfocused, just a bit, settling somewhere in his mind far away. “There’s a lot to love about Hakyeon,” he said simply, slowly. “Mostly he just makes it easy, and he’s always happy to love anyone who loves him.” The gentle smile on his face slowly faded, jaw tightening. “He gives pieces of himself away a bit too easily. Sometimes, to people who are less than deserving.”

Jaehwan blinked, feeling warm, not wholly pleasantly, at the implication. “Are you talking about Taekwoon?” he asked, at a more normal volume, brow furrowing.

“No, not Taekwoon,” Sanghyuk murmured, eyes refocusing in a sharp, unsettling snap. Jaehwan fought not to gasp from it. “There was a feeder, many years ago, that I thought was going to be my new brother. Hakyeon loved him. But he betrayed him, us, in the worst way.” 

Jaehwan swallowed thickly, unnerved. He wondered about that, about the manner of such a betrayal, but he did not have much of a chance to dwell on it. Sanghyuk stepped forward, a specter in the low light, and under the new scrutiny Jaehwan instinctively took a step back, his hip knocking against the desk and making the various artifacts on it clink together. 

It was impossible, how silently Sanghyuk walked, a panther in the underbrush, smoke over water. His eyes almost seemed to be glowing in the dimness. “Taekwoon seems to be— different,” Sanghyuk said, voice lowered, face unusually serious. “You and Taekwoon are close, and I get the feeling that wouldn’t be the case if Taekwoon wasn’t deserving.” He was moving slowly, but still _moving_ , coming forward until he was right in front of Jaehwan.

Jaehwan’s face was definitely burning now. He stared up at Sanghyuk, remembering the last time they were in this position, in his basement room, the warmth of Sanghyuk’s mouth on his. Sanghyuk looked like he was remembering too, eyes tracing over Jaehwan’s face so brazenly it might as well have been a caress. “He’s— Taekwoon is—” Jaehwan began, urgently looking away from Sanghyuk’s face, down to the zipper of his jacket. He couldn’t think, when Sanghyuk was looking at him. But even after he’d looked away, Jaehwan couldn’t find his words. He didn’t know what Taekwoon was. Headstrong and stubborn, loyal and fierce. He was simultaneously the storm tearing at their foundations and the anchor keeping them from blowing away. “He’s been my best friend since we were kids,” he murmured, figuring that said enough.

Sanghyuk reached out, fingertips bracing on the desk on either side of Jaehwan. They still weren’t touching, but it was coming, it was. The thought made Jaehwan tremble. “Sometimes when you say his name,” Sanghyuk murmured, voice dark and rich as sin, “it’s like you’re saying the name of a lover.”

Jaehwan’s heart skipped a beat, not an altogether pleasant sensation. “We— maybe if things had gone differently,” he admitted in a shamed whisper. 

So many memories were vibrant in his mind, Taekwoon dusty under the hot sun, hair rumpled, leading Jaehwan home, rough in his beauty but still stark with it. Taekwoon bloody and high on adrenaline, shaking under Jaehwan’s hands. Taekwoon hazy with alcohol, in Jaehwan’s veins and his own, mouth warm and slick on Jaehwan’s skin. It was so much, but it was never enough. A collection of near misses, never breaking through. 

“I don’t think we were right for each other, not in this life. I— Taekwoon never— he doesn’t like being attracted to boys,” Jaehwan finally said, surfacing from his thoughts. Sanghyuk was watching him so intently, it was making him feel self-conscious, making him want to lay all his secrets bare. “I don’t think I could have changed that.” He bit his bottom lip, whispering, “Not like Hakyeon.”

There was a long pause. “Like I said,” Sanghyuk said gently, “Hakyeon is easy to love.” Jaehwan didn’t understand fully, couldn’t understand, because he didn’t know Hakyeon. “Does it upset you? Are you—”

Jaehwan shook his head in a tightly controlled movement,. “No,” he murmured. “It’s just strange, I guess. I’m— I’d be glad if Hakyeon could help Taekwoon stop hating himself, stop him harbouring so much hate in general. It’d be nice for Taekwoon to be with someone and not feel— not feel burdened by it.”

That was the best way to put it. Taekwoon had always carried his love for Jaehwan like it was a ball and chain, weighing him down in a rushing river. 

“And you?” Sanghyuk whispered.

Jaehwan could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. “Taekwoon and I aren’t— the same. He— I was never—” Jaehwan broke off with a small alarmed noise, as Sanghyuk had leaned down, still not touching him, inhaling deeply near Jaehwan’s neck. Jaehwan had nowhere to shrink back to, the desk dug into his ass and Jaehwan rather thought if he tried to shy away Sanghyuk would just grab him anyway. It was futile, he reminded himself. Resisting, when deep in his heart of hearts he didn’t want to resist.

“Go on,” Sanghyuk murmured, voice husky, lips moving against Jaehwan’s jawline. 

Jaehwan shuddered, body swaying forward, his train of thought lost in the darkness. Sanghyuk made a small noise, deep in his chest, and Jaehwan wondered what Sanghyuk could smell on his skin. “The night we properly met,” Jaehwan whispered, voice trembling in a conflicting mixture of fear and want, “you said that I smelled like a charm, and like a vampire.” Sanghyuk nosed at his ear, humming an assent. “What did you mean?” 

Sanghyuk pulled back enough to look Jaehwan in the eyes, and this time Jaehwan couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “Humans smell like life, it’s— I don’t know, I don’t want to call it a meaty smell, but, well.” He grinned when Jaehwan frowned in admonishment. “And sorcerers tend to have a sort of earthier smell, it always reminded me of deep woods, like clear air, and with that tang of electricity. It’s the magic. And it’s especially strong on magical objects.”

Jaehwan could follow along with that part of the logic well enough. “So, like a charm,” he said, prompting. “But— vampire?”

Sanghyuk’s head tilted to the side, eyes soft. “Can you smell me?”

Jaehwan blinked, then sniffed, just a little, feeling silly as he did so. “I smell cologne,” he said, scowling, and Sanghyuk’s face split in a grin.

“Well, yes, there’s that,” he murmured, smile lingering on his face. “But vampires also smell like magic, just a different sort, to a degree; we run on human energy by feeding on blood, and so it gets filtered through, turns sort of sweet smelling, and sort of dead. I don’t know. The magic oozing out of you smells human, but it also smells like vampire magic. Like death.”

Jaehwan gazed up at Sanghyuk, his eyes unwavering, and wondered what it meant that he smelled like a creature of death. As the reigning theory of vampires was they were the product of a botched necromancy spell, was it possible Jaehwan had half turned himself with his own disastrous spell attempt? There couldn’t _be_ half vampires. Maybe he was simply a member of the walking dead in a different sense.

As Jaehwan thought, Sanghyuk’s eyes had dropped to his lips, and Jaehwan’s heart rate kicked up another notch when he realized. “I wonder what you are,” Sanghyuk whispered. He paused, eyes moving further down, tracing along the side of Jaehwan’s neck. When Sanghyuk spoke again, Jaehwan could see the tips of fangs between his lips. “I wonder what you taste like.”

Jaehwan grasped the edge of his desk behind him as he swayed, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “No,” he gasped, shaking his head a little even though it made him feel dizzy. “No.”

Another pause, Sanghyuk hadn’t moved, forward nor back, Jaehwan could feel his warmth in front of him. “I won’t force you,” Sanghyuk said in the end. “I don’t know if you can be forced. But I have wanted to taste you since I first saw you, and not just for the blood.”

Fuck, but Jaehwan felt so dizzy, his heart fluttering like a bird in a small cage. “Isn’t it only ever for the blood?” he whispered.

“No,” Sanghyuk answered, and Jaehwan heard him as if from very far off. “I just want to touch you.” He reached out, slowly, carefully, grasping Jaehwan’s shoulders. The shock of the contact made Jaehwan jerk, his instinct telling him to squirm away. As if he could. As if he wanted to. “I want—” Sanghyuk began, but then he pulled Jaehwan forward, against his body, and began to nose at Jaehwan’s hair, behind his ear, down to his jaw. “I want to have you.”

 _Have you_. Was a bite with an Elimia a contract, did Sanghyuk mean blood, or body, or mind and heart. Jaehwan had a suspicion it was everything. Every part of him. “No,” Jaehwan said again, looking up at the darkness of the ceiling, feeling his eyes glaze over. He could feel Sanghyuk from thigh to chest, pressing and warm. “Sanghyuk— ah—”

Sanghyuk moved his hands, one coming to press against Jaehwan’s lower back, holding him more firmly against his own body. The other came up and grasped Jaehwan’s jaw, tipping his head to the side and baring more of his neck. It was sickly thrilling, in a way. If Jaehwan didn’t know better he’d have thought he’d been glamoured, but he knew the reaction was his own. He’d always been a bit reckless, taunting danger and death like he was immortal. And it had been a very long time, since he’d had someone, someone warm and aroused and wanting, pressed against him. And Sanghyuk was very dangerous, very warm, and very aroused. The knowledge of it was heady. 

“You keep saying no,” Sanghyuk whispered, fingertips trailing down, hooking on the collar of Jaehwan’s shirt and tugging, “but you know you’ve already given me permission right?”

Jaehwan attempted to pull back, but Sanghyuk held him fast. As if just to torment him, he blew a stream of air on the side of Jaehwan’s neck. “I never said yes,” Jaehwan gasped, goosebumps rising on his skin.

“You haven’t,” Sanghyuk agreed, the words growing indistinct as his fangs fully extended. “But the permission doesn’t have to be verbal. You just have to be willing.” His voice dropped to a whisper, husky. “You’re so willing. You’re aching for it, I can smell it on you.” He paused, and then he was pressing his lips to Jaehwan’s neck, slightly open mouthed. Jaehwan’s knees buckled, and he scrambled for purchase on Sanghyuk’s back. “Jaehwan, hummingbird, let me. It will hurt a little, but I think you’ll like the pain.”

“If you— if I’ve— why haven’t you bitten me already?” Jaehwan asked, his whole being narrowed down to the mouth on his neck, the slight teasing brushes of Sanghyuk’s breathing.

“Because I want to make sure you’re going to enjoy it,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan moaned. “Yes, Jaehwan? Or no.” 

Jaehwan’s eyes were open, though he wasn’t really _seeing_. He couldn’t think through the haze in his mind. God help him, but he wanted this so badly. And somehow, impossibly, he trusted Sanghyuk. It seemed so foolish, but it was there. Sanghyuk touched him like he was a relic, irreplaceable and precious. He didn’t think Sanghyuk would hurt him. He just didn’t. 

Not on purpose, anyway.

Sanghyuk was idly peppering kisses along the length of Jaehwan’s neck, patient, patient like only a centuries old vampire could be. 

Jaehwan let his head fall back, let Sanghyuk hold him up, let his eyes slip shut. The fates could have him. “Tell me what my blood tastes like,” Jaehwan whispered, barely audible, offering himself up like a lamb to slaughter. 

Sanghyuk made a low noise, one Jaehwan didn’t think was wholly voluntary. Then Jaehwan could feel Sanghyuk’s mouth opening against his neck, felt— a sort of scraping, like needles dragging over his skin, and then the sharp prick of fangs sinking into him. He inhaled sharply, unprepared for the clarity of the sensation, for how much it hurt. “Ah,” he gasped, “ah, that— _ah_ —”

His instincts were positively screaming at him, but he was able to hold the fear at bay through sheer force of will, containing the bubble of magic swelling in his chest. Sanghyuk was sucking at the wounds he’d made, and the sensation sent warm tendrils through Jaehwan, pooling in his lower belly, his cock. There was glamour in the bite, Jaehwan could feel it, but he didn’t think Sanghyuk was doing it on purpose.

“What do I taste like?” Jaehwan gasped, his nails catching on the material of Sanghyuk’s jacket.

Sanghyuk pulled away, just enough to mumble thickly against Jaehwan’s neck, “Like fucking sex.” Jaehwan jerked in his arms, but Sanghyuk was holding him too tightly, and his mouth was on Jaehwan’s neck again, and Jaehwan could hear him swallowing.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Jaehwan said, squirming a little. He was beginning to feel lightheaded again and he didn’t think it was from blood loss, but rather from sheer arousal, and maybe fear too. Sanghyuk didn’t let him go, and Jaehwan’s voice went high as he said, “ _Sanghyuk_.”

Sanghyuk stopped feeding, pulling back with a groan that tapered off into a sweet whimper. He licked at the wounds he’d made, the noises obscene and wet and making Jaehwan blush. There were tears clinging to Jaehwan’s lashes, because it was all so much, too much. 

Then Sanghyuk’s hand was on his jaw, holding him still and steady so he couldn’t flinch away when Sanghyuk came up to whisper hoarsely in his ear, “You taste like a vampire, but one full of fresh blood, like you’ve just torn into someone. A vampire with a heartbeat. That’s what you taste like.”

Jaehwan squeezed his eyes shut, making a low whimper. “Fuck,” he gasped. 

Sanghyuk turned Jaehwan’s face towards him, fingertips digging into his jaw, and covered Jaehwan’s mouth with his own. A frisson of shock ran through Jaehwan at the contact, the sharp metallic taste of blood, his own blood, Sanghyuk’s lips sliding slickly against his own. Sanghyuk was so warm, and he wasn’t giving Jaehwan a chance to breathe. 

Was this what Hongbin had meant by the high, Jaehwan wondered, parting his lips so Sanghyuk could lick into his open mouth. He felt fucking electric, every nerve ending alight. The blood was thick on his tongue, but he couldn’t taste in it all that Sanghyuk had. It was just blood. His blood. Jaehwan flicked his tongue against the tips of Sanghyuk’s fangs and Sanghyuk hissed, rolling his hips against Jaehwan’s. There was a stiffness in his jeans, pressing against Jaehwan’s own, and Jaehwan wanted— he _wanted_ —

Jaehwan arched back, breaking the kiss. “No,” he gasped, mostly begging for mercy. His heart felt likely to give out. “Please—”

Sanghyuk backed off, just enough to relieve some of the pressure, and then ducked back down to nuzzle at Jaehwan’s neck, lick softly at the wounds that were probably still seeping blood. Jaehwan heaved in air, the adrenaline leaving him trembling. He felt so small in Sanghyuk’s arms, so weak. Weaker than usual. 

“You zapped me, a bit,” Sanghyuk said idly, still lapping at Jaehwan’s neck. “When I was feeding.”

Yes. Not on purpose. “You frightened me,” Jaehwan explained, his own voice breathless. 

Sanghyuk pulled back finally, so he could look Jaehwan in the face. His mouth was smeared with red, eyes bright, cheeks flushed with it. “I lost myself for a moment, it’s been awhile since I fed. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Sanghyuk said, sheepish. 

“At least I didn’t set you on fire,” Jaehwan mumbled, and Sanghyuk grinned, Jaehwan’s blood between his teeth. 

——

Hongbin was intelligent, was fast on his feet, but even he could only do so much in situations like these. 

“Maybe we should check on them,” Taekwoon muttered, gaze darting to the darkened hallway through whence Sanghyuk and Jaehwan had disappeared to what felt like three fucking hours ago.

Hongbin, who was laid out on his armchair, leg tossed up and over the back, head dangling off the front, glared at Wonshik as best he could. This was partially Wonshik’s fault— he’d played wingman and let Sanghyuk get at Jaehwan, despite Hongbin’s efforts to stop it. 

_Do something_ , Hongbin’s eyebrows said at Wonshik, and across the room Wonshik rubbed his temples. He’d sauntered over, after the other two had left, was hovering near Taekwoon on the couch.

“Sanghyuk has— before you were turned, Sanghyuk had been wanting to talk magic with Jaehwan,” Wonshik obligingly rumbled. Hongbin thought that was only mildly satisfactory. “They’re probably just caught up.”

Taekwoon frowned a little, and Hongbin knew what he was thinking— they hadn’t told the vamps about the spell yet. Jaehwan alone with Sanghyuk, talking magic, could be a recipe for disaster, if Jaehwan forgot himself and slipped up. Worry creased Taekwoon’s brow, and Hongbin could see him shifting, just slightly, gearing up to move.

“Or Jaehwan’s taking a shit,” Hongbin said loudly, too loudly. Taekwoon winced. “To be honest, either way, it’s boring.” He sat up, getting his feet under himself on the armchair and stood irreverently on it, stepping on the arm and then hopping down onto the white furry carpet. “Show me your room, I didn’t come here to drink soda and make chitchat with Ugly over there.” 

Wonshik’s face was impassive, and Hongbin cocked an eyebrow at him in challenge. If he had a better idea, he could damn well air it. Taekwoon simply blinked at Hongbin in mild surprise.

Hongbin turned his back on the both of them. There were two hallways, on either side of the room— Sanghyuk and Jaehwan, heading to the library, had gone through the one on the far wall. The one nearer to Hongbin was the one Taekwoon had first appeared from, so he figured the bedrooms were that way. He stomped his way confidently into that hallway, hoping the two vampires would follow. 

It wasn’t that he was covering for Jaehwan, exactly— he just knew he and Sanghyuk probably weren’t talking, they were probably kissing, touching, and Taekwoon would have to find out about it sometime, sometime soon, but he didn’t have to find out in such an abrupt way. 

Jaehwan should sit him down and _tell_ him, privately, quietly. Anything to avoid a Taekwoon meltdown. A large meltdown. Regardless of the delivery of the news, a Taekwoon meltdown was likely imminent, but, well. They could try and lessen the blast. 

And damn well time it better than now. With Hakyeon out of the house, out of the city. 

“Augh,” Hongbin said, stomping harder. His shoes made very satisfying slapping sounds against the hardwood flooring. The bad side of that was he couldn’t hear if the vampires were following. 

Suddenly, the hallway was flooded with light, and Hongbin had to squint his eyes against the glare. He glared back, at Wonshik by the entrance to the hallway, but Wonshik’s eyes were squinted fully shut. His hand dropped from the switch in the wall. Behind him, Taekwoon was blinking quickly.

Hongbin looked away from them, down the long expanse of the hall. There were doors along one wall paned in glass, but Hongbin got the impression they were for show, like the windows in the living room. On the mirroring wall were proper doors, the ones nearest Hongbin were cracked open. Farther down, they were closed. 

Open doors held little interest for Hongbin. He strode straight for the first closed door and found it unlocked. 

“That’s my room,” Taekwoon called, and Hongbin pushed the door open. 

Light from the hallway spilled out over plush blue carpet, fell on a high bed with a matching comforter in soothing teals. A red sweater was thrown on the floor in a heap. More clothes spilled from a duffel bag by the dresser. Taekwoon hadn’t properly unpacked. 

It was a pretty room, large and well furnished. Much nicer than Taekwoon’s room back home. Hongbin found himself swallowing thickly. 

“This looks like the room of a middle-aged soccer mom,” Hongbin announced. 

Taekwoon stepped up to Hongbin’s side, to peer into his room as well. The proximity, Taekwoon’s body so cold, made goosebumps rise on Hongbin’s arms. “It isn’t that bad,” Taekwoon said. “I like the colors. It just— needs a bit more of me in it.”

Sadness welled up in Hongbin’s chest. “The floor needs more dirty clothes,” he said, and turned away, moving onto the next closed door.

This one did not open, the doorknob stuck in place. Charmed.

Hongbin tugged at it roughly anyway, mostly for show. “Open it,” he demanded, whirling on Wonshik.

“That’s Sanghyuk’s room,” Wonshik said. Patient. Always so patient. “Only he can open the door.”

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Hongbin said. He gave it up as a lost cause, moving to the next door. Taekwoon trailed several paces behind, but Wonshik was _right there_ , and as Hongbin grabbed at the doorknob, Wonshik bodily moved in his way. Hongbin jerked back, because they’d bumped against one another, and it had sent his heart hammering. “What the fuck.”

“This room is mine,” Wonshik said flatly. He stood in front of the door, hands braced back against the frame. 

“And, what, you have a no humans allowed policy?” Hongbin snapped. “Is it dirty? Badly decorated? I want to see, fuckface.” 

In his peripheral, Hongbin could see Taekwoon raising his eyebrows, expression mildly shocked. Hongbin couldn’t imagine why. 

“Is he not normally so charming?” Wonshik asked Taekwoon over Hongbin’s head. He was smiling grimly, if one could call it a smile. 

“I mean— yeah, this is how he is,” Taekwoon said slowly, eyebrows lowering into a quizzical sort of frown that he aimed at Hongbin’s ear. 

“And here I was beginning to think I was special,” Wonshik said, meeting Hongbin’s eyes levelly. Hongbin’s stomach swooped. “You have terrible energy— you’ll fuck up the flow.” 

Hongbin stared right back at him. With Taekwoon standing right here, Hongbin could meet Wonshik’s eyes without fear or hesitance. He watched Wonshik’s jaw lock, the muscles tensing. “Are you afraid of lil ol’ me?” Hongbin murmured, smirk curving his lips. Wonshik’s eyes narrowed. Hongbin knew the expression on his own face was twisting into something unpleasant. The more it became clear Wonshik didn’t want Hongbin in his room, the more Hongbin wanted to see it. 

The words Wonshik had spoken lowly to him on the loft earlier came back to him. _If you love Taekwoon, you’ll stop, for his sake_. It had shut Hongbin up quickly enough, but he didn’t like that Wonshik knew exactly where to press him to manipulate him. Hongbin wanted some leverage too. Barring that, he just wanted to ruffle Wonshik, get at him somehow. 

It was like Wonshik could see that, could see the futility of resisting. He sighed, shaking his head so his dry dyed hair flopped over his forehead. Without turning around, he grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open, stepping out of the way so Hongbin could see inside. 

Wonshik’s room didn’t have carpet, the darkwood flooring spilled over the threshold, until it was hidden by rugs and a layer of clothing strewn about. The bedspread was black, and what Hongbin could see of the walls was crimson paint, because of course. He couldn’t see much of the walls as they were covered with posters— some of them music related, but a large portion of them were of artwork, vintage-looking pin-up girls scantily clad, because _of course_. The one on the wall opposite Hongbin was of a woman changing a tire while wearing kitten heels, her ruby red lips daintily pursed.

Hongbin gave Wonshik a flat look, just to convey exactly how unimpressed he was. Wonshik’s lips were pressed together, and he wasn’t quite meeting Hongbin’s eyes, was more looking at the center of his forehead.

“I feel like I should be surprised,” Hongbin said, “but I’m not.” He stepped forward, into the room proper, whacking at the wall to turn the lights on. Behind him, Wonshik began to make tea kettle noises. But he didn't touch Hongbin, didn’t grab him and pull him back, which Hongbin thought was a victory.

The room really was terrible. Hongbin’s shoes squished down on a shirt splayed on the floor. Everywhere pictures of girls in short skirts and cutesy bikinis stared coyly at Hongbin. The nightstand had a lava lamp on it. There was a modern black leather settee against a wall. 

“Jesus fuck,” Hongbin said, one hand on his hip, the other waving at this mess around him. He was barely containing his glee.

Taekwoon had followed a few steps behind him, and was peering around with open curiosity. It seemed he’d never seen inside Wonshik’s room either. “This isn’t exactly what I would have expected,” he murmured, thereby confirming it. 

Wonshik was standing in the doorway still, arms crossed and eyes turned to slits. Hongbin smiled at him, all teeth. It felt good, after all those nights of Wonshik riling him up, getting under his skin, to have some measure of revenge. He looked down, pointedly toeing at a pair of purple boxers. “It’s a bit untidy, you’d think someone so old would have better habits.”

“You’re a spiteful creature,” Wonshik said, stalking into the room and snatching his undies up. Hongbin leaned away, in case Wonshik decided to throw them at him, but Wonshik just tossed them into the overflowing hamper in the corner. 

“Well, yes,” Hongbin said mildly, stepping aside when Wonshik began to tug at the shirt he was standing on. The bed wasn’t made, but Hongbin made do— he grabbed the edge of the black comforter with his thumb and forefinger and tugged it into a semblance of neatness. Lord knew he didn’t want to sit on the sheets directly. But he perched gingerly at the edge of the bed now covered with the blanket, folding his hands over his thighs. 

Wonshik paused; he’d been scooping up his dirty clothes from the floor, and he was bent, mid-reach, for a pair of jeans. In his arms was a medley of differently colored fabric. He gaped at Hongbin, face frozen, nostrils flared. 

It only lasted a second— Wonshik looked away in a snap, picking his jeans up and delivering his bundle to the mountain of clothing that was his hamper. Taekwoon turned from his prodding of the lava lamp to sit in the desk chair instead, now that it had been cleared of laundry. 

“Your bedspread is linty,” Hongbin said. He could almost hear Wonshik grinding his teeth, and he waited until Wonshik turned back to him to experimentally place his hand down on the comforter, fingers splayed. Wonshiks watched the motion, and visibly swallowed. 

“What’s this?” Taekwoon asked, his voice breaking through the tension as if it didn’t even feel it. Knowing Taekwoon, he probably didn’t— Hongbin brought hostility in his wake like a shadow. The tenseness in the air probably wouldn’t register as anything more than that. 

Taekwoon was prodding at a large bunch of machinery on the desk, with a lot of levers and dials and buttons that Hongbin could not make heads nor tails of. Wonshik turned to see, and said, “It’s for mixing— music.”

With Wonshik’s attention diverted, Hongbin swiped his hand across his pillows— let Wonshik lay down to sleep and smell him. Let him not fucking forget. 

“I didn’t know you made music,” Taekwoon murmured. His fingers on the hulking machine were gentle, almost reverent.

Hongbin brought his own hands back into his lap. “I’m sure it’s awful.”

The machinery looked expensive, and it wasn’t fucking fair, that. What did the dead need luxury for. What did they need mood lighting and fake windows and fucking lava lamps for. 

“Where does your money come from?” Hongbin asked suddenly, loudly. Taekwoon looked to Wonshik, as if he too was curious, and Wonshik rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Do you glamour millionaires to change their wills, leave their fortunes to you on your deathbeds?”

“Not exactly,” Wonshik said. He lowered his hand, his droopy eyes tired. “It’s complicated.” 

“Do you know how to _not_ be a condescending dick?” Hongbin asked, pitching his voice just so. 

Wonshik’s head lolled back, hands dangling at his sides. “Hongbin,” he groaned, very loudly, at the ceiling, as if God could be persuaded to come down and slap Hongbin with a rolled up newspaper for him. 

“I was asking for a friend,” Hongbin sniffed. 

Taekwoon, who’d been frowning in bemusement, slowly began to smile, one corner of his mouth lifting up. He looked from Wonshik to Hongbin, eyes shrewd. Abruptly, Hongbin’s cheeks reddened, and he scowled fiercely at Taekwoon. It just made Taekwoon laugh, shaking his head and turning away. 

Wonshik’s head whipped around so he could look at Taekwoon, catching the tail end of his smile. “What?” Wonshik snapped, throwing his hand out and gesturing at Hongbin. “He’s a talking cactus, and all you do is laugh as if you didn’t have a hand in this.”

“He’s unusually prickly with you,” Taekwoon said, still smiling, and Hongbin’s heart skipped a beat. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Because he is the least frightening vampire I have ever encountered,” Hongbin said loudly, and Wonshik arched an eyebrow at him. It wasn’t the truth, not at all, but Hongbin was turning red and needed to say something, anything, move them on. “He owns a lava lamp.”

“I like it,” Wonshik muttered, defensive, and something about it made Hongbin feel a bit bad for teasing him over it.

Oh, this had to _stop_.

“I have a question,” Hongbin barrelled over Taekwoon’s chortling, voice echoing out into the hallway. “Why is Hakyeon the one dealing with this— this legal business, when he only killed one of the three vampires?”

That stopped Taekwoon’s giggling, and it certainly wiped all playfulness, if there’d ever been any, out of Wonshik’s frame. 

“Taekwoon killed one,” Hongbin continued. “And you — or Sanghyuk — killed the last.”

Wonshik sauntered forward until he was standing in front of Hongbin, looking down the length of his own body to stare at Hongbin's upturned face. They’d been in this position once at the house, and Hongbin could still feel Wonshik’s fingertips on his jaw, could still recall the sensation with ease. “I killed the third,” Wonshik said in a cool undertone.

Hongbin didn’t break eye contact. “How?”

“I ripped his head from his shoulders,” Wonshik said. The line was delivered simply, for all the impact it had.

Hongbin couldn’t see Taekwoon. He couldn’t see anything but Wonshik’s eyes. 

“So if you share the blame,” Hongbin said lowly, knowing he was skirting the edges of something he maybe shouldn’t, “then why have you sent your maker to deal with this alone?”

In his peripheral, he saw Wonshik’s fingertips twitch and his hands ultimately curl into fists at his sides. If Wonshik decided to hit him, it would really hurt. Hongbin assessed that fact simply, but it was what it was. He’d been in enough fights that the idea of incoming pain made him feel numb, rather than afraid. 

Wonshik didn’t hit him. Wonshik stepped away, just a bit, chest moving as he inhaled. “Hakyeon thought it was the best course of action— it resulted in the cleanest story,” Wonshik said, and his voice was calm— on the surface, anyway. “And he is my maker so even if i don’t like his decision, I will stand by him.” 

Hongbin leaned back, placing his hands on the bed behind himself so he could look up easier. It made his legs fall open. “And how has that policy worked out for you so far?”

Wonshik’s eyes skittered over Hongbin’s frame, then moved to Taekwoon, then came back again. “I trust Hakyeon,” he said, finally, and it felt incomplete.

Hongbin tipped his head, glancing at Taekwoon for a moment. He understood. His pulse thrummed in his neck, prettily, he knew. He looked back at Wonshik. “That wasn’t an answer,” he murmured.

“Hongbin,” Taekwoon said, a very soft reprimand. 

“It’s fine, Taekwoon. Isn’t it, Wonshik?” Hongbin said slowly, sticky sweet, like a honey trap. “We’re friends. We can talk openly.” Wonshik’s upper lip was curling, just slightly, and Hongbin rather thought it was involuntary. “So, tell me more about how much you trust Hakyeon. About how he’s never done any wrong.”

Wonshik stared down at him with all the force of a vampire gaze, unblinking and cold. It was a good thing Hongbin had years of practice with this— Taekwoon wasn’t a vampire until recently, but he’d always had a glare that could peel paint. It didn’t faze Hongbin all that much. 

“I didn’t say Hakyeon has never made any mistakes; he has,” Wonshik said, voice catching on the words like water over pebbles in a creek. His eyes didn’t waver. “And I’ve learned from those mistakes even if he hasn’t.”

Without warning Wonshik grabbed Hongbin’s upper arm, tugging him off the bed, to his feet. Hongbin made an indignant noise of surprise, going limply simply because it had caught him unawares, and Wonshik was holding him hard. He’d bruise. Taekwoon rose to his feet— not exactly at vampire speed, but fast enough, eyes uneasy. His hands half came up, like he would intervene if need be.

Wonshik stepped back, pulling at Hongbin, but now that Hongbin knew what was happening, he dug his heels into the shag rug beneath his feet, not budging. The corners of Wonshik’s mouth tightened and he pulled harder, jerking Hongbin roughly, too roughly. It hurt, but Hongbin didn’t make a noise as he was yanked forward, stumbling and bumping against Wonshik’s body.

Their faces were close, and Wonshik still hadn’t broken eye contact. Hongbin felt fear thread through himself, but was grounded, some, by the pain of Wonshik’s fingers digging into his arm. “Tell me,” Hongbin whispered, “what have you learned from Hakyeon’s mistakes?” Mistakes. _Taekwoon_. Yes, Taekwoon was likely one mistake of many. 

Hongbin saw the moment Wonshik decided to hurt him, saw the change in his eyes. Finally.

“I’ve learned to not fall in love with hunters,” Wonshik whispered back, breath fanning over Hongbin’s face. “They rarely deserve it.”

Hongbin had been expecting a backhand. Words were worse. His lips parted, and he felt himself turning red, awfully, sickly, in anger and shame and— so many unpleasant things, just roiling through him in sharp, stabbing flickers.

Bitterness came out on top, as it so often did. “That seems like a solid life choice,” he said, simple, and Wonshik’s eyes shuttered as he finally looked away.

Taekwoon was there, then, touching Wonshik’s shoulder and Hongbin’s in tandem. Wonshik immediately loosened his grip on Hongbin’s arm, like he was remembering himself. “I think we should go check on the others,” Taekwoon said tentatively. It was odd to see Taekwoon so unsure, almost wary. 

Wonshik let Hongbin go, and Hongbin didn’t need a guiding hand to stalk his way back out into the hall.

——

The Magister moved slowly, picking through papers with unaffected grace. Hakyeon grit his teeth and watched her eyes moving over the words in front of her. He wanted this to be over. But he didn’t want it to be sloppy.

“Cha Hakyeon,” the Magister finally said in a voice that was only slightly raised. It was more than enough, the room amplified her words. Hakyeon squared his shoulders and met her eyes, chin tipping up. “Six nights ago you killed three of our kind, according to this statement you gave to Councilwoman Joohyun.” The Magister flicked a small gesture to her right, where said Councilwoman was currently sitting. “Is this correct?”

Hakyeon didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. “It is, Magister.”

“Mm,” the Magister said in reply, gaze dropping down as she shuffled more papers. He knew she had the other particulars of the case printed in front of her— there was no need to make excuses for himself. Their law system wasn’t dependant upon who could argue better, talk faster. In ways, this was better. 

Hakyeon waited, unmoving. The male nest member in the witness box kept shifting, leaning to one side, then the other, watching the Magister sharply. Impatient. He wanted blood. Hakyeon knew his kind well.

The Magister made another thoughtful sound, then looked up once more. “Can you explain, once more, what happened that night?” she asked, quite politely, as if it truly was a request.

Hakyeon remembered verbatim what he’d said to Councilwoman Joohyun all those nights ago. He could recite it, but he didn’t want to sound rehearsed. “They touched what was mine, and I killed them for it,” he said simply, and he heard several of the vampires to his left hiss softly. Hakyeon didn’t look at them, simply stared up at the Magister. Her face gave nothing away. “I came upon the scene when my human was still freshly dead. They— were unrepentant, and rather cavalier about it. I lost my temper.”

“Quite,” said the Magister dryly. On either side of her, the Panel looked blank, or perhaps bored. The differences from Hakyeon’s past experience were striking. Last time there had been so much anger, so much disgust. “And this human, you had laid claim on?”

“Yes, Magister,” Hakyeon lied.

The male vampire in the witness box moved, a jerky motion. “That—” he began, cutting off when his companion placed her hand on his forearm. Or maybe it was because the Magister had whipped to look at him, eyes flinty. 

“Lee,” the Magister said, the word sharp and short, “if you wish to speak, you will wait to be given permission.”

Lee sat back, but it was not in contrition. His eyes spoke of defiance. “Understood, Magister,” he said stiffly.

The Magister stared at him for a few more pointed, lingering beats before looking back to Hakyeon, opening her mouth, but before she could speak, the woman beside Lee stood, graceful and silent. The Magister pressed her lips together momentarily before saying, “Yes, Lim, you may speak.”

“I simply wished, as Witness, to express my disbelief,” the woman, Lim, said, her voice even and high, sweet like a flute. She was old, Hakyeon realized. Older than Lee, maybe one of the ring leaders of the nest. “My companions were many things, but they would not have been so foolish as to have touched a human that had been claimed.”

The Magister looked down at the papers, eyebrow raising, and then turned to her left, where Kyungsoo and Minseok sat. “Kim,” she said, and Minseok stood, back straight, his usual grin wiped clean. “Your King was sent to look into this matter, and you are here as his Witness. I’ve been informed that after the human was killed, Cha successfully turned him, is this true?”

Minseok nodded, then said, “Yes.”

Did the nest knew how high the deck was stacked, Hakyeon wondered. Lim appeared passive, but Lee was clearly seething. Briefly, Hakyeon thought he should feel some guilt, but he simply couldn't find it in himself.

He’d tried to stop it, he’d tried to stop them, stop the situation, before it resulted in any more death. But he’d failed.

“And,” the Magister said, “you have met the child?”

“I have,” Minseok said, and the Magister stared at him, eventually making a gesture that said, _Do go on_. Minseok inhaled slowly, not in a way that suggested unease. Behind his glasses, his blinking was lazy. “Taekwoon, the child, was clearly exposed to vampires in his human life— he showed all the signs of a sudden, startled turning, but he seemed to be quickly adjusting to vampirism. He definitely seemed— attached.”

Hakyeon wondered if Minseok was lying. He wondered how Taekwoon appeared, to outside eyes.

The Magister hummed, turning away from Minseok. “Sit,” was all she said, and Minseok obeyed. She turned her gaze on Lim, who was still standing, “Do you have anything you wish to add?”

Lim’s mouth was, ever so slightly, pinched. She looked like she had a lot of things to add. “No.”

“Then sit,” the Magister said, the end of the sentence hit hard, drawn out, a flash of teeth. Lim sat. There was the sound of more shuffling papers, before eyes once more fell on Hakyeon. “I have read your statement, as well as those given by your accusers,” she said. Hakyeon thought if he sat any straighter at attention, his spine might snap. “They admit to not conveying their presence in your territory, neither to asking permission to hunt therein. You were within your rights to directly take them up to task on your own for that, of which they are well aware, as they have had other infractions of the sort brought into this courtroom before.”

Lee looked like he was about to stand up, his face an angry twist. Hakyeon felt his eyebrow raising. So, this wasn’t the first time the nest had let its members run wild, killing where they pleased. Somehow, Hakyeon wasn’t utterly surprised. He’d known they were nomadic, vicious, he’d known they hadn’t _cared_. He wondered how many times they’d been summoned before, for killing where they shouldn’t, for taking too many victims at once, for drawing attention to the local monarchs and their courts.

Before Lee could fully gather himself enough to make an objection, the Magister made a sharp motion, as if she was cutting him down. “However,” she said firmly, and Lee’s mouth slammed into a thin line even as Hakyeon’s stomach dropped, “in the matter of wrongfully killing a claimed human, such a verdict and punishment should have been dealt by the reigning monarch of your area, if not this very court. You were in the wrong for killing them without trial, and this is now the second time in half a century that you have been brought here on the matter of wrongful vampire deaths.”

Kyungsoo stood up swiftly, his small hands primly placed on the balustrade before him, face soft and patient as he stared hard at the Magister. He did not have to wait long, the Magister closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if praying for patience, and then looked to Kyungsoo as if his interruption had been expected. Hakyeon had certainly been expecting it. “Yes, Kyungsoo— Do, you may speak,” she said, voice tinged with weariness around the edges.

“I simply wished to point out,” Kyungsoo said, loudly, clearly, enunciation careful like he’d practiced, “that in Hakyeon’s prior case he was cleared of all charges of collaboration, and fulfilled the terms of penance doled out for his carelessness at the time as decided by the Magister and Panel without complaint or hesitation.”

Maybe just a little hesitation, Hakyeon thought, staring straight ahead of himself at the carvings on the Magister’s tall podium. Or perhaps that was simply in his memory, every second after the verdict had rung out through the room drawn out into an eternity in his own mind. Before he’d moved, raising from the chair, a chair just like this one, body light as every thought left him in favor of roaring chaos in his ears. 

Without complaint or hesitation.

He couldn’t remember the sounds, not the noise of his shoes on the tiled floor as he’d stepped towards Jungsu’s kneeling form, not the snapping of Jungsu’s neck under Hakyeon’s hands, not the impact of Jungsu’s body meeting the floor. It was all white noise, a stretch of silence and slow motion. 

They had wanted more, wanted Hakyeon to tear into Jungsu’s throat, wanted blood and fear. Wanted, what was to them, justice. But they had just said, _Kill him_ , and Hakyeon had. He had. Without complaint or hesitation.

Though, perhaps, not without a bit of defiance. 

“Yes, I recall the particulars of the case, as I was on the presiding Panel,” the Magister said, almost a reminder. She stared at Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo slowly sank back into his seat, though he maintained eye contact as he did so. It was the Magister who looked away, eyes sweeping across the rest of the room. “Are there any more interruptions or may we proceed?”

Hakyeon glanced around the room as much as he could without moving his head. The Panel still looked bored— it was strange for Hakyeon to think that for them this was just one case of many in the day, when so very much of himself hinged on it. When Hakyeon’s gaze drifted to the left, he saw Lee staring intently at the papers on the Magister’s podium. Interest and curiosity and anger flashed in his eyes. 

Hakyeon grit his teeth. His record was public, but they apparently hadn’t looked it up beforehand. They’d certainly be looking it up after this. It would be one more thing for Hakyeon to worry about later.

No one stood, no one spoke up, so the Magister reorganized the paperwork in front of her into a new order and then cleared her throat. “Given all the circumstances, I must reject the accusers request that Cha meet the dawn as punishment for this crime,” the Magister said, and Hakyeon‘s bones suddenly felt like jelly. It was different, guessing it, than hearing aloud that they’d wanted, they’d _asked_ , for him dead as a cost of this. 

Lim didn’t react, but Lee stood. "I must object," he said, voice deep and strong. It rang through the room. Councilwoman Joohyun's eyebrows rose.

Hakyeon almost cringed. Not so much out of fear as for the fact that the Magister’s patience was clearly about snap. “You will wait to speak,” she said loudly, staring Lee down, “until we are done passing sentence, or I shall have you removed from this room.”

Lee didn’t sit down, but neither did he say anything more. For the first time, Hakyeon could see a spark of fury in Lim’s eyes. He didn’t know if it was because of the Magister’s words, or because her companion was too volatile, and wasn’t playing the game as he should.

“Cha Hakyeon,” the Magister said, hands curling over the front of her podium as she glared down at him. Hakyeon uncrossed his legs, placing both feet on the floor and swallowing hard. “For your negligence of our customs and laws, I am stipulating that for the next thirty years you will give twenty-five percent of your yearly income, from any and all of your assets, to the accusers as penance for their losses.”

Kyungsoo inhaled sharply through his nose, immediately getting to his feet. “Magister,” he said, very quickly, without waiting, “Hakyeon is my only child, and as such, we share all assets and income.”

“That is a pity for you, Kyungsoo, but not of this court’s concern,” the Magister said dismissively and seemingly, with some satisfaction. Hakyeon might have laughed at his maker’s expression, but it was too soon to laugh at anything. The Magister spread her hands, gesturing to either side of herself. “My Panel, are there any objections to this verdict?”

Silence answered her question, every Council member still, quiet. The Magister paused long enough to give anyone who wished to a chance to gather themselves and speak, but no one did. Then she put her hands down onto the podium, and stood. “This is our verdict, this is our will,” she said, voice raised so it echoed around the room. She turned to look at Lee, and her tone was back to normal as she added, “If you wish to file an appeal, the office is down the hall.” 

Lee’s face broke like ice over a lake, his mouth rippling into a snarl. He strode out of the witness box, and amongst the sound of everyone else in the courtroom shifting, standing, murmuring, Hakyeon still heard the heaving of the great doors being opened so Lee could storm away. 

It was over. Hakyeon closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to breath, for it all to wash over him. There would be no appeal. Chanyeol would take care of that.

He’d gotten off lighter than last time, he supposed. The thought was dull. When he opened his eyes again, it was a relief not to be greeted by the sight of a body sprawled out on the tiles. 

Jungsu had been so foolish. But then, so had Taekwoon. 

Hakyeon’s breath shivered out of him, and he stood, eyes flickering over the room. Several Council members were already gone, the Magister was gathering up the paperwork and handing it to an assistant, and Lim— Lim was sitting and staring at Hakyeon, flat and analytical and far, far more terrifying than Lee’s raw anger.

Hakyeon remembered himself, remembered where he was. He smiled at her, fangs in check, before turning away, the exposure of his back just as much of a taunt. 

“That went well,” Minseok muttered to Hakyeon as he ascended the stairs towards them, his face split into a grin. Kyungsoo, by contrast, was scowling. Hakyeon would be getting an earful later. It was almost a comforting thought— later, he had a later to look forward to. 

He was going home. 

“I need to text Wonshik,” Hakyeon mumbled, his faculties a bit slow. “I— I should—”

There was suddenly rich brown hair in his vision, very close, and he had to tip his head down and down to see a face. The young nest member, with her large doe eyes and sweet face, was blocking their path, her brow hitched into a gentle frown.

“Will you kill the rest of us?” she asked, tone aiming for defiance, but missing by a wide margin. She just sounded frightened, words quavery. “For hunting in your territory?”

Hakyeon blinked, stepping back a little. Her hands were empty, but he didn’t trust these creatures at all. “No,” he said, and meant it. He kept his bemusement out of his tone, off his face, simply staring down at the girl coolly. She glared up at him, anger and fear radiating off her in waves.

Her nest mates came for her, approaching carefully like wary animals, eyes on Hakyeon as if expecting him to strike. Lim wasn’t among them, these were boys, dressed as if they truly were the ages they appeared. One with upturned eyes and the young, handsome face of a fox, said softly, “Yerin, come.” He touched her on the shoulder, and she stepped out of Hakyeon’s path, her face twisting seemingly in pain. A second boy with hooded eyes and large ears lingered for a moment, as if he wished to speak to Hakyeon as well, but in the end he simply nodded to him, perhaps in acknowledgement of everything that had just transpired in this room.

Hakyeon nodded back and then kept walking, sweeping to the doors, Kyungsoo and Minseok like shadows flanking him. They needed to talk, but it was better for everyone involved if they waited for privacy. In the hall, there were more people than there’d been before. Hakyeon, despite everything, couldn’t quite feel relief yet. 

This wasn’t the end. Not by a long shot.

——

Wonshik supposed they were lucky Sanghyuk had Jaehwan put back to rights by the time they made their way into the library.

That was where the luck ended. 

The tang of blood in the air wasn’t overwhelming, but it was _there_ , and even if it hadn’t been, the perfect, clean fang mark poking above the collar of Jaehwan’s sweatshirt would have given them away. It was dark and obvious against Jaehwan’s pale skin. 

Taekwoon stuttered to a stop as soon as the library door swung open, his nostrils flaring and eyes flashing. Wonshik’s hand shot out almost automatically, bracing against Taekwoon’s shoulder in case the smell of blood caused Taekwoon to regress. When it became obvious Taekwoon wasn’t about to go berserk, Wonshik kept his hand there just on the off chance Taekwoon decided to try and claw Sanghyuk’s face off.

Sanghyuk and Jaehwan had been examining the contents of a book placed on the desk when the door had opened. Now they were turned towards them, shoulders bumping. Jaehwan had the grace to look at least mildly guilty, but his chin was tipped up almost in defiance. Sanghyuk, on the other hand, simply looked as he always did, mild and nonchalant. 

Later, Wonshik was going to throttle him. The least Sanghyuk could have done was waited until Hakyeon had returned— Wonshik didn’t want to be the one dealing with the fall out. His run-ins with Hongbin tonight had left him feeling raw enough. 

Taekwoon moved to step forward, his motions jerky, but Wonshik’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Easy,” Wonshik murmured, like Taekwoon was an animal that needed soothing.

Taekwoon wasn’t even looking at him. His jaw clenched, hard, and his eyes darkened. He went from staring at Jaehwan’s neck to his eyes, and Jaehwan managed to keep his chin up, despite the blush rising to his cheeks. 

Movement, behind Wonshik, Hongbin nudging himself around Wonshik and Taekwoon blockading the door. “Oh,” Hongbin said. He felt Hongbin’s fingertips at the small of his back. 

Taekwoon did not acknowledge Hongin. He turned his furious gaze on Sanghyuk. “Really?” Taekwoon murmured lowly to him, completely bypassing Jaehwan in a way that Jaehwan clearly noted. 

Jaehwan tossed his shoulders back, puffing himself up. “I’m right here, you know— this wasn’t just him,” he snapped, but Taekwoon didn’t look at him. It was a deliberate refusal; he was actively _not_ looking at Jaehwan, which Wonshik found more telling than anything else. 

“You won’t do it again,” Taekwoon said intensely, still addressing Sanghyuk, and Jaehwan made a garbled noise of indignation. Sanghyuk’s face didn’t change, neither did his posture, everything about him calm. “You’ll kill him.”

Wonshik could see the anger rising in Jaehwan, could see the light of it in his eyes. Hongbin pinched at Wonshik’s back, as if to say, _Do something_. A drawer in the desk was rattling ominously. 

“You’re right,” Sanghyuk said softly, and Jaehwan whipped around to stare up at him incredulously. The drawer fell silent. “It wasn’t my intention to use him as a feeder. I wanted a taste of him because whatever magic in him that’s gone wrong is in his blood. There’s information to be gained.” 

“And that’s all this was?” Taekwoon shot back quickly. “A quest for information? An experiment?”

It had been a flimsy excuse on Sanghyuk’s part, one they could all see through. The redness of Jaehwan’s lips would have given them away even if nothing else had.

Sanghyuk opened his mouth. Closed it. “No,” he finally said. “No.” 

Taekwoon breathed deeply, his whole body moving with the inhale. “Well, that’s— that’s just great,” he said tightly. He seemed to brace himself, inhaling again, before he bodily shifted so his attention was on Jaehwan. “Did I have to find out like this?”

Wonshik was surprised when Jaehwan winced. He wondered what Jaehwan had expected. “I waited a long time, Taekwoon,” Jaehwan said softly, chin tucking down defensively, shoulders high and hands clenched. 

Taekwoon swallowed, throat working violently. “So this is punishment?” he asked. “Because it feels like it.”

Jaehwan was shaking his head before Taekwoon had even finished. “You know I wouldn’t do that—”

“I don’t fucking know anything anymore,” Taekwoon fairly shouted, voice growing louder with each word. It was startling, to hear him yelling. 

Hongbin jerked, and both the humans’ hearts skipped a beat. Fear was heavy in the air. Taekwoon seemed to note it, to remember he wasn’t human, anymore. His fangs were poking out. He was frightening in ways he hadn’t been before. 

When Taekwoon spoke again, his voice was level, but it still felt strained. “You should leave,” was all he grit out, and then turned and stalked out of the room. 

There was silence in his wake, and Wonshik took a moment to process. He didn’t know what to say. Tension was so thick in the air it actively made him stop breathing lest he suck it in like poison. 

It was Hongbin who broke into the quiet, with poison of his own. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to hit you, like I want to hit you right now,” Hongbin said slowly, coming around Wonshik so he could stare at Jaehwan. “But the last time you got pissed you burnt your handprint into Taekwoon’s arm, and I don’t want that on me for the rest of my life. I don’t need it.”

Jaehwan paled at that, and, for the first time, Sanghyuk’s face flickered with anger. “Hey,” Sanghyuk said, under his breath, shifting in his skin.

Wonshik felt something in him snap. “No, shut up,” Wonshik bit out at him, harsher than he’d been in a long time. Anger rose in him like a wave. “Jaehwan, Hongbin— go wait by the front door.” He turned just enough to skewer Hongbin with a glare. “And for once, keep your mouth shut.”

Hongbin’s expression was heavy with contempt— contempt for Wonshik, for vampires, for life. But he listened at the least, turning on his heel and leaving the room. Jaehwan, on the other hand, hesitated. It wasn’t until Sanghyuk murmured, “It’s alright, I’ll be right there,” that Jaehwan moved. He walked out with his head held high, but Wonshik could see the slight tremors running through him.

Once alone, Wonshik whirled on Sanghyuk. He had to get this out quickly, didn’t want to leave Hongbin and Jaehwan alone for long.

“Your timing leaves a lot to be desired,” Wonshik ground out. “You fucking idiot.”

Sanghyuk’s face twisted. “I’m protecting him.”

Wonshik thought that was rich. “From what? Taekwoon?” he asked, incredulity and perverse amusement thick in his tone.

“From Kyungsoo,” Sanghyuk said, the line of his mouth set, eyes hard. 

Now there was a thought. Wonshik still shook his head. “You’re a selfish ass,” he snapped. “Hakyeon’s going to rip into you.” 

Sanghyuk had no retort for that. “I need to take the humans home.”

“No,” Wonshik said, and Sanghyuk’s eyebrows rose. “No, I’m taking them home, you are going to sit and guard the main door— from the outside. I don’t trust you with the humans right now, but I don’t want you alone in the house with Taekwoon either.” Wonshik turned away from Sanghyuk’s gaping face and swept out of the room. 

Hongbin was waiting on the loft, his side profile sharp. He was seething, and yet somehow he looked icy all the same. Jaehwan was sat on the edge of one of the armchairs, and he rose when Wonshik came into the common room. 

“Up and out,” Wonshik told him in an undertone, gesturing at the stairway. He didn’t want to touch Jaehwan if he could help it— dangers of magic aside, he knew Sanghyuk had a tendency to be possessive. 

Jaehwan’s heart was going rabbit-fast, and he was still a bit pale. Wonshik might _have_ to touch him. He might need to carry him home. 

Sanghyuk was fucking stupid. 

Suddenly Jaehwan was gone; Sanghyuk had flittered through and snatched him up, taking him up onto the loft. He was already stuffing Jaehwan back into his heavy coat, hands deft and not lingering. Hongbin jerked away from the pair of them like they were diseased. 

“Come on,” Sanghyuk muttered, touching Jaehwan’s elbow to lead him outside.

Wonshik put his foot on the first stair. He felt the tension in his gut, of being on the precipice of a fight. “Sanghyuk,” he said flatly, and Sanghyuk’s eyes flickered down to him. “I wasn’t making a suggestion— it was an order.” He paused. “And I will enforce it if necessary.” He didn’t want to, but he would. 

Sanghyuk held his gaze, and he could tell Sanghyuk wasn’t angry— he just seemed a little wretched. Well. He should have thought about the consequences of this before he sunk his fangs into Jaehwan.

From behind Sanghyuk and Jaehwan, Hongbin was staring down at Wonshik. He was— tamped down, Wonshik felt. Iced over and hard. 

Wonshik was afraid Sanghyuk was going to argue. He was afraid this was going to turn nasty— he and Sanghyuk hadn’t really gone at one another in centuries, not since Sanghyuk was a very young vampire. And he really didn’t want that to happen. Especially not in front of the humans. Not in front of Hongbin. He was enough of an animal in Hongbin’s eyes already. 

The moment was blessedly broken by Wonshik’s phone going vibrating. Distantly, he heard an echo of it from up in the loft— Sanghyuk’s phone had received a text in tandem. That meant—

Sanghyuk looked away from Wonshik, casting his eyes down as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Wonshik didn’t bother reaching for his. 

“It’s Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk said evenly, no inflection in his voice. The light of his phone made his eyes glow. “The trial’s over. He owes a fine. That’s it.”

Relief swept through Wonshik like a cool summer breeze. Thank fuck. “So Hakyeon _will_ be back tomorrow night, then?” Wonshik said, voice strong and carrying. It was partially to impart the threat of that to Sanghyuk, and partly in the hope that Taekwoon, wherever he was in the house, was listening. 

“Yes,” Sanghyuk said, then deflated, shoulders slumping. His battle was lost and he knew it.

Wonshik sighed, coming up the stairs at a human pace. He was ready for this night to be over.

Sanghyuk opened the front door, and icy air swept in from the tunnels. To the humans the tunnels must have looked pitch black. “I’m just taking him out of the tunnels,” Sanghyuk muttered, and then he and Jaehwan were gone, and Wonshik was alone with Hongbin.

Wonshik had thought he was was too old for squirming, discomfort, and yet the way Hongbin was looking at him definitely made him feel discomfited. “Nice to know you can get angry,” Hongbin said coolly. “It was kinda hot. For a dead thing.”

Wonshik’s eyes fluttered closed, and he breathed. In another life.

In another life.

Sanghyuk came back, alone, the picture of contrition when Wonshik opened his eyes again. “I’ll wait here,” he said, leaning against the stone walls of the tunnels, head poking around the door frame. “Just— be gentle with Jaehwan.”

Yes. Wonshik grabbed Hongbin around the waist, jerked their bodies together. Hongbin gasped sharply. Wonshik lifted him off the ground and let the door slam shut behind them, flittering through the tunnels and up into the bright night, where Jaehwan waited.

——

The house rang with silence, and Taekwoon couldn’t stand it. 

He wanted to throw things, wanted to scream, wanted to fight. But destruction would bring no peace, nor did he have any rights to indulge in it.

Jaehwan was right. Taekwoon had years, over a decade, and he hadn’t made a move forward. It wasn’t fair for him to be angry that Jaehwan had grown tired of waiting, had moved on from someone stunted and frightened to touch him to someone who was— not. Decidedly not. Taekwoon saw in his mind’s eye the puncture marks that had marred Jaehwan’s neck with startling clarity, the skin red and tender from attention. The swolleness of his lips from being kissed.

Taekwoon had wanted to spare Jaehwan, keep him clean of his perversions. Especially because he was dying, deserved what peace he could get. It had been enough of an obstacle when Taekwoon was human, but now as a vampire— he truly couldn’t inflict himself upon Jaehwan, not as he was. He knew that. He wasn’t a fool, and he wasn’t jealous, because when he’d died, any future of that sort with Jaehwan had died too. 

It was impossible. It had always been impossible, but now it went beyond even that. It was just unthinkable. Jaehwan was human. Taekwoon wasn’t. And he hadn’t— he hadn’t expected Jaehwan to— to remain loyal to Taekwoon’s unspoken feelings. He hadn’t _expected_ it.

But he’d hoped. Because watching Jaehwan walk into the arms of another didn’t bear thinking of. And he was going to have to bear it, wasn’t he. He couldn’t stop it. It wouldn’t be fair of him to try. He knew that, but his gut still churned hotly, sickly. Jaehwan deserved better than a fucking vampire. He deserved someone with a beating heart, someone soft, someone full of light. 

And Taekwoon had ruined Jaehwan’s chances of that, years ago. He’d ruined them the moment he’d walked into Jaehwan’s life, taken him by the hand, and led him into the darkness.

Suddenly, Taekwoon found himself laughing, the sound of it echoing off the walls of his room, out the open door and into the hall. It all kept getting worse. It seemed impossible that it could, that he could keep dragging his loved ones further into this pit, and then he managed it.

With a startling acuteness, Taekwoon found himself longing for Hakyeon’s presence. Hakyeon would know what to do, what to say. He probably couldn’t fix this, but he could— help. Help Taekwoon think, help Taekwoon process this, heal from it.

Taekwoon looked around himself, inhaling shakily, fists clenched. This room was starting to smell like himself, as a vampire, and the residual traces of his human scent scattered from his old clothing, still not run through the wash. Hongbin had left a mark too, in the brief moment he’d come in. It was a swirling mix of the familiar and not. 

Right now, it was too much of what he didn’t need.

Taekwoon strode out of his room, surprised by his own decisiveness, by the rightness of it. He went down the hall to Hakyeon’s closed door and opened it, stepping inside the room and then shutting the door behind himself.

It was an immediate improvement, like Taekwoon had stepped into a glass bubble, a small terrarium, a world all its own. Here, everything was crisper, clear of the contamination of the rest of the house. All that lingered in the air was the scent of laundry detergent and cedarwood soap and Hakyeon. Taekwoon leaned his back against the door, head thunking against the wood, and breathed. He took the air into his lungs and held it there deeply, hoping his instincts would take him, carry his anxiety away. 

“Hakyeon,” he whispered, more exhale than speech. He inhaled again, drawing in the energy of the room, permeated so thickly with Hakyeon’s presence Taekwoon could almost feel it sitting in his chest. 

Tomorrow night, Hakyeon would be back, just as he’d promised. It made Taekwoon feel warm, and oddly vulnerable. _What is the promise of a vampire worth._ Hakyeon made a lot of promises. Thus far, he’d kept them all.

Taekwoon stepped further into the room, tentatively running his hands over the clean cotton of Hakyeon’s bedspread, smooth and cool under his palms. His fingers closed, fisting in the fabric. “Hakyeon,” he whispered again, and in a smooth movement he climbed into the bed. When he leaned back into the pillows the wash of air was so thickly scented— skin and damp hair and vampire magic, that goosebumps rose all over Taekwoon’s skin.

He wrapped himself in the blankets, like a cocoon, and felt the last of his angry jitters fade off, leaving a familiar empty longing in their wake.

Taekwoon wanted so much. He wanted to stop feeling wrong, broken. Sometimes, in his weakest moments when he’d been— alive, he had imagined it wasn’t fucked up of him to want Jaehwan, and his heart had soared at the idea of waking up beside Jaehwan in a soft bed, light streaming in through cracked blinds. Jaehwan’s hair a burnished golden brown in the morning sun, his eyes blinking open and lips pulling into that sweet, slow lopsided smile of his. And Taekwoon— could kiss him, and the world wouldn’t shatter. That had been the dream, so starkly simple.

But that wasn’t how it was anymore. Taekwoon was beginning to realize their lives wouldn’t have splintered apart over a kiss, a caress, but it was too little, too late. Jaehwan couldn’t lie in sunlight anymore. And neither could Taekwoon. Jaehwan’s hair had gone cold, sparkled winter-silver under the stars. 

He wasn’t the Jaehwan that Taekwoon had wished for a future with. In truth, he probably never had been. Some part of Taekwoon had always known that, and had clung to the image anyway. Had clung to the hope of simplistic happiness. But it was time to let that go. It was time to stop holding Jaehwan as a prisoner to the ideal in Taekwoon’s mind. 

Was it— was it time, too, to stop holding himself to those same ideals.

Taekwoon splayed his hand on the mattress beside himself, feeling the plushness give. He thought of Hakyeon, sleeping here, face soft in slumber. _It isn’t wrong to like boys_ , Hakyeon had murmured, so certain, a tree deeply rooted.

But it was wrong, for Taekwoon. Wanting— wanting Hakyeon was wrong, just as wanting Jaehwan was wrong. Taekwoon knew it, but where wanting Jaehwan felt wretched, Taekwoon’s chest heavy with shame over the deliberate betrayal of someone he was responsible for, wanting Hakyeon felt less like a fault on Taekwoon and more like the approaching devastation of a storm, like the rising tide come to drown him. Inevitable and out of his control.

He remembered the vision in the mirror, their bodies entwined. Inevitable. 

It would happen here. It would happen in this bed. This was where Taekwoon would give in to his sins. He rolled onto his back, arching a little so his head pressed against the mattress beneath him, and breathed again. The air felt like water, thick with so much, with everything.

Taekwoon was drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. there prolly won't be another update until like october because lr comeback mY ASS IS ABOUT TO BECOME VERY BUSY   
>  2\. i'm sorry im incapable of updating any faster than like every 2 months i feel the shame


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [plays a tiny violin] this chapterrrrr is 20.4 thousand wordsssssss and im sorryyyyyyyyyyyyy

Hongbin was exhausted, but he’d agreed with himself that he wasn’t going to have a meltdown until after his shift. There was no point showing up to work with his eyes redder than they already were, considering the only reason he hadn’t been fired yet was because his pretty face kept the little old ladies coming round. So he had to stay pretty. 

He’d had it up to his neck — appropriately — with fucking vampires. The whole entire fucking herd of them. Except perhaps Taekwoon, who was technically a vampire, even if Hongbin’s brain hadn’t quite made the switch yet.

But then, where the fuck was Taekwoon. Not here. Not helping. 

Hongbin knew that wasn’t fair, but as he waited for his fucking laundry to finish drying all he could think about was how utterly everything had gone to shit. Things could definitely be worse, and Jaehwan taking a bite from a vampire practically in front of Taekwoon’s face was more telenovela than dire life crisis. But Hongbin was running on very low sleep and was sick of everything all the same. The vampires could kiss his ass. He was going to go to work, have a nice cry in the shower, and then be in bed by nine so he wouldn’t have to stare at anyone’s fucking faces and he could maybe get a good night’s sleep for the first time in _months_.

“Fucking Jaehwan and his fucking boner,” Hongbin grumbled as the dryer stopped tumbling and gave a loud buzz. He bent, collecting his warm apron and shaking it out. “Fucking Taekwoon and his— dying. Fucking Wonshik and his tiny fucking mouth—”

The doorbell rang, and Hongbin took a deep breath, not flinging his apron down to the floor with sheer force of will. It was a dirty floor. He’d just washed his apron. 

With careful deliberateness, he set his apron on top of the dryer and went to answer the door.

Somehow, he’d been half-expecting the person he glimpsed through the peep-hole, after last night. He pulled the door open, the crisp winter air rushing in to greet him, and he shivered. “Come in,” Hongbin said tersely, and Jongin stepped by him, the faint scent of cologne wafting after him. 

Jongin looked much as he had last time— though today his overcoat was dark grey, and a different material. Fleece, perhaps, and his scarf was red and black plaid. He only had one large brown paper bag in his arms. 

Hongbin closed the door, to stop what little warm air there was in the house from escaping any more. “Is it food again?” he asked, gesturing stiffly at the bag.

“Yes,” Jongin said, neutral. “Sanghyuk’s request.”

“Of course.” Hongbin beckoned Jongin to follow him into the kitchen, where he once again set the paper bag down on the kitchen table. 

Hongbin didn’t like taking the charity. But having food in the house, food that hadn’t come out of an instant pack or a pizza box— it had been nice. He wasn’t going to admit that aloud. But he would eat the damned food.

Jongin pulled out containers: lasagna, some kind of stew, pork and dirty rice, a couple slices of a pie. Hongbin raised his eyebrow. They were getting desserts now. Maybe he could ask for wine. Once the bag was empty, Jongin turned his pretty eyes on Hongbin and asked, “Do you have the containers from last time?”

Hongbin blinked. “Uh, yeah,” he said slowly, going to one of the cabinets and pulling them out. “We haven’t finished the soup yet— but here are the empty ones.” He was glad he’d washed them already. They’d sat, dirty, in the sink for a while. Jongin packed them up in the paper bag tidily, and Hongbin found himself blurting, “Do you cook the food?”

Jongin smiled, not looking up, and Hongbin felt himself blushing. This was why he never bothered trying to talk to people. He wasn’t any good at not making a fool of himself. “No,” Jongin said. “We keep a chef employed.”

A chef. In the mansion Jongin lived in, with his vampire lover? Or perhaps in the crypt. No, Jongin was too tanned to live underground. “Where?” Hongbin asked. 

“Where I live,” Jongin said, clearly amused, and picked the bag of empty tupperware up.

Hongbin scowled. “Where do you live? Who are you employed by?” He wasn’t having fun with this game.

Jongin shook his head, smile lingering on his mouth. He walked to the living room, but he went slowly, clearly not trying to run from Hongbin’s questions. “I work, and live, at a business co-owned by Hakyeon and my master,” he said. The words were freely given, but picked through carefully. 

Hongbin puzzled through it quickly enough. “A blood brothel?” he asked, curiosity and distaste warring in him. He tried not to show either. 

For all that they were of a similar age, the look Jongin shot Hongbin made him feel young and small. “No,” he said. “It’s a feeder house. They’re not the same thing.”

Hongbin should have figured that, with how nicely Jongin was dressed, but he didn’t think Jongin was a donor. Just some kind of wrangler and day walker. He could feasibly work for either type of establishment, though it made Hongbin feel slightly better to know Hakyeon was involved with the— better type of business. 

He was still making money off selling human blood, which rubbed Hongbin badly, but it could be worse. 

“Sorry,” Hongbin said, mildly sincere. His brain turned the information over in his mind. He had a lot of questions, but he opened the front door for Jongin without asking any of them. “Thanks for coming by again.”

“We’ll see each other again soon,” Jongin said simply, rolling one shoulder in a half-shrug. He made it sound not-ominous somehow. Hongbin watched him walk down the porch steps, over the grass, still damp with dew and sparkling in the winter sun. He was getting his designer shoes all wet.

The air was so cold, goosebumps all over Hongbin’s arms. “Jongin,” he called, and Jongin turned just as he was reaching his car. “Wait.”

——

The red tulips’ petals had begun to curl, their edges drying. Hakyeon could perhaps give it water, but that would be delaying the inevitable. And he would be leaving this place very soon anyway.

He tended to be fastidious when packing— but only on the journey out. Shirts folded meticulously so their creases would be measured and crisp. But now, on the way back home, he freely and happily tossed his possessions into his case, splayed out on the bed. It felt rebellious, irresponsible.

Hakyeon wondered when his personality had become so mundane that wrinkled slacks could make him feel like he was living on the edge. 

He smushed his clothing down, so the case would be able to close, the fabric pressing up between his fingers. He was going _home_. He was so ready to be home. There was a niggling sensation that things had gone to shit while he was gone, though that could be residual anxiety from the trial. Or the looming foreboding about the tasks he would have to tackle, once he and Kyungsoo were returned. 

Hakyeon wasn’t exactly ready for that part of it. Wasn’t ready to twist Jaehwan’s arm until he told them what Kyungsoo wanted to know. Hopefully, such measures wouldn’t be necessary. Hopefully, Taekwoon could persuade Jaehwan it was in his best interests to talk, to cooperate. Hopefully. 

They’d come so far, and it was so hard fought for. Hakyeon didn’t want to be set back by this. If something happened to Jaehwan— they might not be able to move forward again at all.

He sighed, zipping his suitcase closed and then setting it on the floor by his bed. There was nothing left to be done now but wait for Kyungsoo and Minseok to finish up their rounds, hobnobbing with this politician and that court official, sticking their fingers in pies where they didn’t belong. Vrienyre was good for that. It didn't hold any appeal to Hakyeon. 

There was a knock on his door, the sound thin and sharp, and Hakyeon raised his eyebrow quizzically. It was too early, in theory, for Kyungsoo to be done talking to everyone he knew down here. 

“Yes?” he called, moving with no small amount of trepidation to the door. He didn’t really expect that any of the nest members would take it upon themselves to be a martyr and murder him right in the middle of Vrienyre. But in the unlikely event that they _did_ , he’d be very dead, so caution was a virtue.

He looked through the peephole and found himself gasping softly. Then he was scrabbling at the lock on the door, wrenching it open. 

“ _Ilhoon_ ,” Hakyeon said, the exclamation a bit high. His hands came to rest on either side of him, bracing on the door frame, while his lips parted in vague disbelief, as if this might be a mirage. 

Ilhoon grinned at him, the corners of his mouth pointed sharply. “Hakyeon,” he said, indulging in some amusement it would seem. In a well tailored grey suit that accentuated his slim frame and made him look taller, he was a bit overdressed. But Hakyeon knew all Ilhoon owned were suits and designer velour sweats. Given their current location, the suit worked a bit better. Ilhoon stepped in close, wrapping his arms loosely around Hakyeon’s middle, hips cocked forward so their knees bumped. Hakyeon had to look down at him. “It is good to see you again, old friend.”

Hakyeon blinked. “You— you’re here,” he said lamely, and Ilhoon’s grin turned a tad condescending. It wasn’t so much that it was unexpected of Ilhoon to pop up in, well, unexpected places. Could a place be unexpected, when Ilhoon was always expected to be everywhere. He had his fingers in more pies than Kyungsoo. It was more that Hakyeon hadn’t seem him in well over a decade, and it simply felt incongruous now, to have him here, in this stifling and grim place. When the circumstances of their acquaintance had always been anything but stifled and grim. “Did you see my trial?”

“I see everything,” Ilhoon said, waggling his eyebrows, and just like that, the world seemed to right itself. 

“Sanghyuk will be pleased to know you’re back in the area,” Hakyeon said, a bit numbly. Perhaps even pleased enough to forget about Jaehwan for five minutes. He took one hand off the doorframe to return Ilhoon’s loose embrace. “Sungjae is here too?”

Ilhoon pulled a hand free from Hakyeon’s waist to gesture vaguely at the hallway. “He’s around,” Ilhoon said with a lightness that was loaded. He glanced at Hakyeon out of the corner of his eye, fingers wrapping lightly around Hakyeon’s upper arm. “My friend, my darling, it’s been so long since we've met up. I have so much to tell you.”

His eyes looked past Hakyeon’s shoulder, and Hakyeon subtly turned to stare behind himself. There was nothing there, just the boring beige of his room, the wilting tulips. 

Ilhoon leaned in so far his lips brushed Hakyeon’s ear. “My room has less of a chance of being bugged,” he whispered, and used the grip he had on Hakyeon’s arm to tug him into the hall. Hakyeon allowed himself to be led, arm in arm with Ilhoon, down several hallways, while Ilhoon chattered inanely. 

Ilhoon’s room was much the same as Hakyeon’s, cream and beige, but the flower vase on his dresser was empty. 

“How long have you been here?” Hakyeon asked as the door shut behind them, closing the two of them in. Sungjae was elsewhere, it seemed, attending to mysterious business. Hakyeon doubted he had a separate room— the bed was unmade and there were clothes, clothes unmistakably belonging to Sungjae, strewn on the floor. Which didn't necessarily mean he was sharing the room. But Hakyeon figured Ilhoon would always err on the side of economy. 

Ilhoon gave an airy wave, ducking down to open the mini-fridge. He pulled out a tall, elegant bottle of blood with a shining gold label. So much for economy. “A little over a week,” he said, tugging the glass stopper from the bottle and splashing a hearty amount of the blood into two fat-bellied wine glasses. “We had other business to attend to.” He held one of the wine glasses out for Hakyeon, fingers delicate around the stem. Mistaking Hakyeon’s hesitation as suspicion, he grinned. “It isn’t poisoned.”

“No, but it’s _carbonated_ , which is basically the same thing,” Hakyeon muttered, and took the blood as Ilhoon laughed. Hakyeon swirled it lightly, watched as the redness clung to the walls of the glass. He took a sip, finding the bubbles harsh on his tongue, and the flavor to be ever so slightly citrusy. “This is one of those, the human ate nothing but oranges for two months before we harvested the blood thing, isn’t it?”

Ilhoon spun the bottle so he could look at the back label. “Tangerines,” he read off. 

Hakyeon bit back a sigh. “What is going on, Ilhoon?” 

Ilhoon mulled the question over, putting the stopper back into the neck of the bottle and returning the lot of it to the mini-fridge. When he straightened, he seemed to have settled on his thoughts. “Lim’s a cunt,” he said, blunt for all the time he’d taken to compose it. “I don’t like her.”

Lim, one of the nest members who had stood as Witness against him. Hakyeon took a step back, letting himself sink into the stiff, mostly-decorative armchair in the corner of the room. He crossed his legs primly, the base of the glass teetering on his knee. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Is she the ringleader of the nest?”

“One of them,” Ilhoon said. He sat on the edge of his bed, facing Hakyeon, the sprawl of his legs indolent. “There are factions.” Hakyeon nodded. He knew that. “It’s a warring country, that nest, and they leave destruction and scorch marks everywhere they go.”

“You’ve never cared about destruction,” Hakyeon pointed out. Which wasn’t to say Ilhoon was cruel, simply that he was willing to overlook such matters, in the pursuit of happiness. Ilhoon was a very good friend of Hakyeon’s, and that wouldn’t be so if he were the wrong sort of vampire. Or rather, Ilhoon was a very old bedmate of Sanghyuk’s, who’d become a bedmate of Hakyeon’s by proxy, and then had become a very good friend of them both.

Sungjae was there because— well. The more the merrier. It was a sentiment neither Ilhoon nor Hakyeon had any trouble getting behind.

The point still stood, anyway. Ilhoon was alright. 

“I don’t care about that aspect per se,” Ilhoon said, head lolling back so his neck cracked. It was an affectation of nonchalance. “They have simply caused trouble for a lot of people, myself included.” 

Hakyeon absorbed that, knew it meant that somewhere along the line the nest had hit Ilhoon where he hated it most— his pockets. “So,” Hakyeon said, drawing the word out into a lead.

“So,” Ilhoon said, pausing to down the blood left in his glass in three large gulps. Then he straightened, putting the glass aside, the insides of his lips stained incarnadine. “They aren’t stupid enough to attack you now, openly. And they will not file an appeal; Lim at least has figured out they won’t get you in a court. Their best bet is to wait around, sniff out something else to bring you up on, and have you locally charged and sentenced by one or two councilmembers. Which is what they are going to try to do.”

Hakyeon hummed, thoughtful. He sipped at his blood. “There’s a lot I could be pulled up on, if anyone ever discovered it,” he said quietly, but there was no real worry inside him. “That is true for us all, though. And I hide my tracks well.”

“Exactly,” Ilhoon said, leaning forward, elbows on his thighs. “I’m not telling you this because I am worried about you—”

“Thanks,” Hakyeon muttered, dry but no less fond for it. 

“I’m telling you because it is an opportunity,” Ilhoon continued as if he’d been uninterrupted, eyes glittering like jewels. “They will have to put up camp in your area to sniff around as they wish to— so why not do some digging of your own while they are here? They’re surely not as careful as you. And you’d be within your rights to— check up on them. From time to time. And if you caught something while you’re doing your duties, well, that’s just how things fall, isn’t it.”

Hakyeon mulled the words over, trying to parse through the undertones. He wasn’t sure if Ilhoon was  
asking him to fabricate something. Hakyeon wouldn’t do that. Not because of any moral scruples, simply because he didn’t feel it was worth sticking his neck out for. But yes, if he happened to notice something was off, of course he would follow that lead. 

Any more effort than that was, right now, more than he could handle. 

“I confess, there’s a lot on my plate currently that requires my attention,” Hakyeon admitted, glad he was in the presence of someone he could be transparent with. “They are not at the top of my priorities now that my trial is settled.”

“I suppose I understand that, but— it would be advantageous to get them out of the way. Neutralize the threat.” Ilhoon was talking fast, slick as oil, like a used car salesman making a pitch. “It sure as fuck would be advantageous to me.” He cocked his head to the side, mouth pulling up in a strange lopsided smile. “Though I know it might perhaps cause hassle for you, so I’ve scrounged up some— incentive.”

Hakyeon wasn’t sure that didn’t sound ominous. “Oh?” he asked weakly, just as the electronic lock on the door gave a series of beeps, the knob turning. “What is—”

“It’s your incentive,” Ilhoon said, turning to look at the door. “Hopefully.”

Sungjae walked into the room, easy smile on his face. If Ilhoon was crisp angles, Sungjae was all loopy swirls— cotton t-shirt, jeans tight enough to be appealing but not enough to be uncomfortable, worn sneakers. 

There was a slim manila folder held carelessly at his side. 

“Hey, Hakyeon,” Sungjae said, warmth heavy as sunlight in his voice.

“Sungjae,” Hakyeon said, surprise lilting the word slightly. “Hello.”

Ilhoon cleared his throat. “Well?”

Sungjae looked at him. “You were right. It matched up.” He sauntered over, pace lazy, and traded Hakyeon the folder in his own hands for the glass of blood in Hakyeon’s.

The folder was unmarked, and looked new. Hakyeon touched the front lightly, confused. He glanced questioningly at Ilhoon, watching Sungjae drain the glass out of the corner of his eyes.

Ilhoon looked smug. “The nest is nomadic, and has a habit of not declaring their presence to the local officials as they should,” he said, and yes, Hakyeon had figured that out for himself. He didn’t know why this would inspire him into action. “But they’re a bit sloppy, and still leave tracks. Breadcrumbs.” Hakyeon nodded slowly, waiting. “I figured you wouldn’t know— they’ve been through the area before.”

Ilhoon paused, possibly for dramatic effect. Hakyeon raised his eyebrows, just a little. “Oh?” he said, prompting. He had a cold lump forming in the pit of his stomach. It felt a lot like dread.

“Mmm. About sixteen years ago? Apparently,” Ilhoon said, and Hakyeon felt like he’d missed a stair, that awful swooping sensation of falling when one didn’t expect it. “I think they made a bit of a mess, while they were here.”

Hakyeon wrenched his gaze away from Ilhoon’s. _Taekwoon_ , he thought. He opened the folder, scanning the page inside. It was a single-page report. The dates were a bit wide, to leave room for the guesswork, but they overlapped with— with when Taekwoon’s brother had gone missing. 

He swallowed thickly. “How did you find out about Taekwoon’s—”

“I told you— I see everything,” Ilhoon said, grinning, before it dimmed into something a bit more solemn and he added, “Sanghyuk. He asked me to look into it, for your sake. Something about closure. And Lord knows I owe him some favors. It just happened to be a happy coincidence this all was intertwined.” He nodded to the report. “So, how’s it for incentive?”

“Compelling,” Hakyeon whispered. He closed the folder.

——

Wonshik tended to be a late sleeper. He’d mastered the art of maintaining unconsciousness even once dusk had hit, and the spell of the daylight was lifted from his undead body. It was the only time he got a sleep that was almost human— he still didn’t dream, but it felt languid and sweet, _restful_.

Most nights.

Most nights, he didn’t roll over and end up with the smell of Hongbin heavy against his skin. 

Wonshik jerked away from the offending pillow, blearily squinting at it in betrayal. He flipped it over, and the scent Hongbin had left behind greatly decreased. The other pillows had been untainted, but Wonshik had stripped the sheets off his bed before he’d slept, because Hongbin had gotten his— Hongbin Essence all over them. Wonshik hadn’t realized he’d gotten his grimy little hands on one of the pillows too. Wonshik would wash all their cases later. 

Even with the pillow flipped, the smell was still there, and Wonshik scooted back, onto one of the other pillows that just smelled like Wonshik’s shampoo and skin. He relaxed back into it, consciously trying to release the sudden tension on his shoulders and neck. 

But the memory of Hongbin lingered, and smelling him, here, on Wonshik’s bed, on his pillow—

“Fucking stop that,” Wonshik rasped in sleepy despair, pressing his hips against his mattress as if to suffocate his boner. “I will not— no. Think of his teeth. He has too many of them. Teeth are no fun.” He thought harder about Hongbin’s lesser appealing qualities. The problem was, the teeth and bad attitude were the worst of it— and both those problems could be solved with a nice sturdy gag. 

Wonshik’s cock twitched.

“Nope,” he said, rolling over onto his back, cold air washing over his front. It did not dissuade his erection, but he was not going to jerk off to Hongbin. He just wasn’t. “Nope nope nope.”

He got out of bed, scratching his hand roughly at the short hairs at the nape of his neck in agitation. In the interest of not traumatizing Taekwoon, Wonshik pulled on some sweatpants, black ones. They did little to hide his— situation, but it felt uncomfortable and awkward, which was what his dick deserved. Getting hard over Hongbin. _Hongbin_. With his five thousand teeth and condescending attitude and tiny waist and— sculpted jawline—

Wonshik yanked his pillows off his bed, all of them, and threw them towards his laundry hamper, where they all fell in a messy pile amidst his sheets. “No!” he fairly shouted. He needed silver. Something small— a charm, maybe, or old money. Something to poke every time he had a thought he shouldn’t about Hongbin. Or he could just ask Sanghyuk to smack him. Train his brain to associate Hongbin with unpleasant physical pain.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Yesterday had been a goddamn fuckshow. And after what had happened with Hongbin— what had been said— this was all just beyond ridiculous, on Wonshik’s part. At least Hakyeon was alright, was coming home. Small mercies.

In the meantime, Wonshik had duties to perform. Taekwoon must be fed, and the humans must be visited. Yes. 

Wonshik left his room, walking just a little funny, maybe. The hallway was bright, and the charm on Taekwoon’s door glinted. He hooked his finger around it, tugging it off the doorknob, not hearing any sound from within the room. Taekwoon was likely still asleep— the door had been closed last night when Wonshik got home, and Sanghyuk had sort of shrugged about it. Wonshik had put the charm on the door and then retired to his own room himself. He didn’t know Taekwoon well enough to comfort him properly, but he could imagine Taekwoon’s distress over the whole situation. 

Wonshik carefully turned the doorknob, opening the door as quietly as possible and poking his head in, immediately blanching. He yanked the door open the rest of the way— Taekwoon’s bed was unmade, but he wasn’t in it, and he wasn’t in the bathroom either. Both rooms were dark and silent and still. Wonshik looked down at the charm in his hand, panic bubbling up and killing his boner properly. It was the right charm. He’d put it in the right place. But Taekwoon wasn’t here. 

“Taekwoon?” Wonshik called, voice abnormally high. If he’d gotten out— if he’d hurt someone—

“I’m here,” came the very soft, muffled reply. 

Wonshik’s head whipped around to follow the sound— it had come from further into the house, rather than from the living room area. He flickered down the hall, faint with relief, and opened the door to Hakyeon’s room.

It was dark inside, and he flicked on the lights. They were turned to their dimmest setting, perfect for Wonshik’s eyes, but they made Taekwoon, still sleepy-soft, squint and blink rapidly. His dark hair was sticking up on one side, and he was all tangled in Hakyeon’s bedspread.

Wonshik took a deep breath, dropping the charm from his nerveless fingers. It made a dreadful clatter against the hardwood floor of Hakyeon’s room. “You slept in here?” he asked faintly.

Taekwoon shifted, sitting up sleepily and rubbing at his eyes. There was just a bit of dried blood clinging to his lashes. “Yes,” he whispered, voice just a little raspy. “I— Hakyeon’s smell calmed me down.”

He sounded so young, so innocent, that Wonshik immediately felt mildly ashamed of his reaction to Hongbin’s smell in his own bed. Such a large difference. 

“You gave me a fright,” Wonshik said, trying to will his jitters away. Taekwoon made a small questioning noise, and Wonshik added, “I thought you’d escaped, somehow.”

“Oh,” Taekwoon said. “I’m sorry, I— I just needed some— some time. I hadn’t thought about it. I’m sorry.” He sounded genuinely miserable, and Wonshik knew it was for more than just this.

Wonshik closed the door, and then came over to stand beside the bed. Taekwoon watched him coming warily, running a hand through his hair as if that could tame it. 

“You gonna be alright?” Wonshik asked, and Taekwoon’s shoulders slumped.

“I think so,” he murmured. He rearranged the blankets around himself, kneading at the down stuffing. “I also think I don’t have a choice.”

“No,” Wonshik said softly, sitting down on the edge of Hakyeon’s bed while Taekwoon looked on in mild curiosity. “You don’t.” Wonshik knew that didn’t necessarily make these sorts of things easier. “I am sorry Sanghyuk chose such timing though.” He didn’t mention that part of it was most likely that Sanghyuk keenly felt the ticking of Jaehwan’s clock. It didn’t make it right. And it wouldn’t help Taekwoon’s hurting heart.

Taekwoon smiled down at his lap, no amusement behind the expression. “Sanghyuk isn’t your responsibility.”

“I mean— he’s always been stubborn,” Wonshik said slowly, trying to gauge Taekwoon’s meaning. He wasn’t the easiest person to read. “It isn’t a failing on Hakyeon’s part. It’s just how Sanghyuk is.”

Taekwoon looked up in surprise, blinking. Wonshik could see why Hakyeon called him _kitten_. “Oh,” Taekwoon said breathlessly, “no, I wasn’t— I know. I didn’t think it was Hakyeon’s fault at all. He doesn’t always have a choice either.” He paused. “But he seems to deal with it well.”

Wonshik thought of all that Taekwoon had gone through lately. “You’re not doing so badly either,” he said, and Taekwoon snorted, eyes rolling a little as he gave his attention to the duvet once more, picking at a loose thread. Wonshik watched him, knowing he should let this drop, move on with the evening, but— “Hongbin doesn’t, does he?”

Taekwoon stilled, blinking as if he’d been disturbed from deep thoughts. “Huh?”

“Hongbin,” Wonshik repeated, and was glad he was dead so he couldn’t blush under Taekwoon’s flat, uncomprehending stare. “He doesn’t deal with not being in control well.”

Taekwoon made a small noise of understanding. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Hongbin is— Hongbin. He doesn’t deal with not being in control well.”

There was another pause. _Let it go_ , Wonshik told himself.

“Can I ask why?” Wonshik asked, and then promptly had to hold back a wince because he was weak.

Taekwoon didn’t immediately reply, was obviously a bit reticent on the subject. Finally, he quietly said, “Life didn’t give him a fair shake. None of us got one.”

Life was often unfair, Wonshik knew this well. “How so?” he asked, and Taekwoon, for the first time, really focused on Wonshik, hard, a slight frown on his face. Wonshik held still when he wanted to squirm. “It’s— he’s— I’m just trying to figure him out.”

It was clear Taekwoon wasn’t exactly appeased. “You’re have to ask him about it then,” he said softly, retracting back into his metaphorical shell like a suspicious hermit crab.

Wonshik was afraid he’d say that. He supposed it was a good sign— that Taekwoon was loyal, that he wasn’t a gossip about his friends— but it was frustrating when Wonshik felt like if he just _knew_ where Hongbin was coming from, things might be easier. Might. But then again, they might not.

And he’d never know, because Hongbin would never tell him. Hongbin would probably rather stick his face into a blender than talk to Wonshik about his problems or feelings.

Wonshik heaved a sigh.

“What’s that noise?” Taekwoon asked, spine straightening and turning his ear toward the door with a thoughtful expression.

Wonshik stilled, listening. He had to concentrate, but he could hear a faint humming. Taekwoon really had acute hearing— it might fade as he got a little older. “It’s my phone,” Wonshik said, stomach jolting. He quickly got to his feet and flickered down the hall and back into his room, where his phone was vibrating on his nightstand, screen bright and showing _Hakyeon_.

“Hello? Hakyeon?” Wonshik said into the phone after he’d swiped to answer it. There was movement in his doorway, Taekwoon shuffling in a step and then stopping. His face was openly curious like a child’s. It was a strangely vulnerable expression. Wonshik pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker for Taekwoon.

“Yes, Wonshik, it’s me,” Hakyeon said, nearly sighing it out. He sounded tired. “Listen— we’re about to leave, and I’ve— I have orders for you.”

Wonshik felt himself frowning. There was something furtive about the words. Hakyeon couldn’t speak plainly, perhaps because of worry over the unsecure line, or because of listening ears on his end. Wonshik wanted to ask if everything was alright, what was wrong, but if Hakyeon didn’t feel it was safe to talk about it now— Wonshik would wait.

“What are your orders?” he asked, nodding even though Hakyeon couldn’t see it.

“Taekwoon—” Hakyeon began, then stopped, and in his mind’s eye Wonshik could see him pursing his lips in thought. Taekwon straightened to attention, as if he might speak, but Wonshik held a hand up to indicate he should be quiet. Hakyeon wasn’t talking to him. He was about to say something about him. “Kyungsoo wants to meet Taekwoon’s friends.”

Wonshik slowly lowered his hand, maintaining his calm expression while dread settled in him. “Taekwoon’s friends,” Wonshik repeated. “Both of them?”

“Just one in particular,” Hakyeon said tightly, Taekwoon was shaking his head, fear obvious on his face. Hakyeon would not be able to comfort him. Not now, and not from this. “I need him brought to the feeder house. Kyungsoo is going to hold a meeting.”

A meeting. A tribunal? There was no reason to bring them to the feeder house and not here if Chanyeol wasn’t going to end up involved. “Does it have to be tonight?” Wonshik asked, thinking of everything that had happened yesterday that needed dealing with first. Not to mention— Hakyeon was only just free of his own trial. Could they not breathe easy for just one night? 

After a very long pause, Hakyeon said, “Yes.” Wonshik had been expecting that, but he still had to bite back a curse. “Trust me, I— there’s other matters I’d rather be tending to. But Kyungsoo has made up his mind.”

“Alright,” Wonshik replied. His mind raced, but there was nothing they could do except obey. “I’ll send Sanghyuk over.”

“Right, yes,” Hakyeon said, and it was so keenly restrained that Wonshik ached for him. “I will—”

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said, high and clear, calling it across the room as he stuttered forwards a couple of steps. He was twisting his hands together anxiously.

Hakyeon made a small choking noise that came out eerily staticky over the phone. “I’ll see you all in a couple of hours at the feeder house,” Hakyeon said quickly, and then there was the white noise of a phone call gone dead.

Wonshik tossed the phone onto his bed, rubbing his hands over his face, dragging his cheeks down. “You need to get dressed,” he mumbled indistinctly. “And I need to wake Sanghyuk up.”

“Wonshik,” Taekwoon said, voice higher than usual, unsurety lacing every syllable, “what’s— what’s happening? What are they going to do with Jaehwan?”

Wonshik wet his lips. “Honestly— I’m not entirely sure.”

——

Blood splattered over the bathroom linoleum, small, watery drops. Jaehwan had inadvertently scrubbed one of his scabs open while drying himself off from his shower. It stung, but not in a way that Jaehwan particularly minded.

“Fuck,” Jaehwan muttered, dragging a hand across the mirror and wiping away a streak of the steam clinging to it. In that single stripe of reflection all he could see was his chin, the line of his neck, the red of the markings and blood. 

It was a bit striking, to see those wounds in a mirror. He’d seen them on Hongbin— a fair amount. But it wasn’t the same as seeing it on himself, as remembering the sensation of the bite as he looked at that intimate smudge of blood and two clean wounds—

Jaehwan touched them gently, found himself a little sore, and he shivered. His fingertips came away damp with water and blood. He hesitated for a few seconds before giving in to his impulse, gently sucking his fingers clean. The taste was mild— metallic, maybe a little salty. It wasn’t anything to him but Sanghyuk had definitely seemed to enjoy it. 

Jaehwan wondered if he’d come by tonight and promptly blushed at the idea, hand dropping from his mouth. It was highly likely. Sanghyuk seemed— attentive. And it was probably for the best, as Jaehwan could definitely do with the distraction. He sensed if he lost the momentum of this, he’d falter and crumble. Leaping headlong into a relationship with a vampire— it wasn’t something he could stop and really dissect. Sanghyuk made Jaehwan feel like he was _living_ , and after so many months spent as a dead man walking, Jaehwan couldn’t put into words what it meant. 

Even if it came at such a cost. But Jaehwan wasn’t going to think about Taekwoon right now. Taekwoon was— immortal, and he’d move on, in the end.

Jaehwan dabbed carefully at the blood with a wad of toilet paper, and once that was cleaned up and the rest of him was patted down with a towel, he pulled a clean sleep-shirt over his head (black just in case more leakage occurred) and some worn boxer-briefs (Batman-print because it made him happy). 

Once he exited the bathroom, leaving the door open so the tiny room could air, he complained loudly about how chilly the rest of the house was. His feet flop-flopped over the floor as he walked to the kitchen, shivering dramatically.

“If you want to kick the heat up, get a job so you can pay the bill,” Hongbin snapped as he shoved a large portion of lasagna into the microwave. He’d gotten back from work barely before night had fallen. Jaehwan had been awake, waiting in his basement room, when he’d heard Hongbin come home. 

The towel Jaehwan had draped over his hair to absorb any latent dampness had begun to slip, and Jaehwan righted it with a sniff, tying the ends together under his chin to keep it from moving again. “Where did you get the lasagna?” he asked. His stomach gave a small rumble. 

“Your dead boyfriend had it sent over for you,” Hongbin said, getting the microwave going after a series of small beeps. He turned away from it and stopped when he caught sight of Jaehwan, giving him a sweeping glance. “Don’t complain the house is cold when you haven’t put any pants on, you fucking donut.”

Hongbin’s eyes had stuttered on the bite marks, not at all hidden by the loose-neck of Jaehwan’s stretched out pajama shirt. But he didn’t say anything, moving across the kitchen to the fridge where Jaehwan saw several new tupperware containers. “It’d be cold even if I had pants on,” Jaehwan countered, mostly just to play, and was rewarded by Hongbin sighing loudly in a put upon fashion. Jaehwan wasn’t dumb, he understood what Hongbin had meant— and Jaehwan couldn’t get a job, so. The house would be cold.

The back door rattled in its frame, shuddering under someone knocking, and Jaehwan startled, a little, his towel falling askew on his head. Hongbin straightened overly quickly from where he’d been bent retrieving the mostly-empty bottle of diet Coke from the fridge, and he whacked his head on the freezer door. He swore loudly, and Jaehwan cringed.

“You okay?” Jaehwan asked as he scuttled to the back door, unlocking it. 

Hongbin slammed the fridge door shut. “I wish for death,” he said, as the microwave beeped. 

Jaehwan figured that meant he was alright. He flipped the porch light on quickly before he pulled the door open to reveal a squinting Sanghyuk. “Hey,” Jaehwan said, a little breathless, as his heartbeat kicked up a notch. Remembering himself, he reached up and snatched the towel off his head, though it surely meant his hair was all over the place.

Sanghyuk had looked somber, but he smiled then, fond and warm, looking Jaehwan up and down. Jaehwan felt his face grow warm under the scrutiny even as the night’s icy air swirled around him, rushing into the house. “Hey,” Sanghyuk echoed. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” Jaehwan said, stepping aside as Hongbin made a displeased noise. “You— didn’t you already have an invite? Did it expire?” Jaehwan didn’t know all the rules of vampirism. No one but vampires did. But Jaehwan wanted to learn. 

Sanghyuk chuckled as he stepped into the house, and the sound shot right down Jaehwan’s spine. “No, can’t I just be polite?” he asked, still smiling, and took the door from Jaehwan to close it. 

“Oh,” Jaehwan said, the epitome of wit. “Yes. You can.”

Sanghyuk stepped in close, wrapping his arm around the small of Jaehwan’s back. He was warm, very warm, and the juxtaposition to Jaehwan’s cool, still-damp skin made Jaehwan shiver. Sanghyuk’s free hand cupped the side of Jaehwan’s face, and his eyes dropped to the marks on the side of Jaehwan’s neck. 

“I think they’re pretty,” Jaehwan whispered, so Hongbin wouldn’t hear, hopefully. Hongbin, who was stomping around the kitchen behind Jaehwan, slamming cupboards and pouring drinks and clanging silverware everywhere. 

Sanghyuk’s arm around him tightened, and he hummed. “I’m glad to see you’re alright after it,” he murmured. “I’m— sorry. About how it all panned out.”

“I know,” Jaehwan said, and he did. He was sorry too. 

Gently, Sanghyuk pressed a kiss to his mouth, chaste and apologetic. Jaehwan eased against him, hands finding the lapels of Sanghyuk’s coat to cling to. Sanghyuk stuttered a bit, pulling away and frowning. Their faces were still so near that when Jaehwan looked at him, he had to go a little cross-eyed to do so. “What?” he whispered, and Sanghyuk shook his head a bit, still frowning. Wordlessly he leaned back in, pressing their mouths together but this time he licked at the inside of Jaehwan’s bottom lip, just a little. Jaehwan let his mouth fall open, a bit confused, but when Hongbin loudly slammed the microwave door closed, Sanghyuk pulled back quickly, still frowning. He stepped away, thoughtful and gauging. Jaehwan felt a bit wrong footed. And cold again. “What?” he repeated, a little snappier. 

“You taste like blood,” Sanghyuk muttered, and Jaehwan’s face immediately flamed red. “Did you just bite your tongue?”

Jaehwan swallowed. “No,” he said, a bit strangled, remembering his little venture in the bathroom. 

“Can I eat my free lasagna in peace?” Hongbin said, voice jarring. Jaehwan squinted at him, sitting at the table with his steaming pile of tomato sauce and cheese, and Hongbin waved in their general direction. “If you want to— do all that, there’s plenty of other cushy surfaces available around the house. Might I suggest—” 

“Actually,” Sanghyuk interrupted quickly, tugging his scarf into a looser loop around his neck, “I’m not staying.” His pensive scowl smoothed out and in its stead the corners of his mouth tightened, grim. “Jaehwan,” he said, suddenly oddly formal, and Jaehwan had a sinking feeling in his gut, “you— you’ve been summoned.”

Jaehwan blinked. “Summoned?” 

“It’s about the spell,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan crossed his arms over himself, taking an involuntary step away. Suddenly everything felt too cold and too bright. “I know, I know, but— we don’t have a choice. There are laws and systems that even we have to obey—”

“Who summoned me?” Jaehwan asked, voice unpleasantly shrill. He wasn’t feeling— terrible, but he certainly wasn’t feeling tip-top. Not enough to potentially win his way out of a fight if it came to that. Not without killing himself.

“The local King and— council. Sort of,” Sanghyuk said, and whatever expression he saw on Jaehwan’s face made him step forward, grasping Jaehwan’s shoulders to steady him. “Listen, they’re related to us, so we have sway—”

“Oh, goodie, bias in the justice system,” Hongbin said tartly, his fork clattering down to the table. “What if we don’t go?”

Yes, what if. Jaehwan looked up and up at Sanghyuk, pleading silently. 

“I mean—” Sanghyuk’s face twisted miserably, and he whispered, “I won’t force you.” His thumbs rubbed soothingly over Jaehwan’s bony clavicles. “But it would be better, if you answered the summons as told.”

“You _would_ say that,” Hongbin snarked.

“Shut up, Hongbin,” Jaehwan snapped out roughly, and Hongbin looked a bit taken aback. Jaehwan’s mind was racing. “If I don’t go— they will come here?” 

“Eventually,” Sanghyuk said. He didn’t put any pressure on Jaehwan, just waited. Patient. Always patient. Most vampires weren’t patient.

Jaehwan could maybe run. It wasn’t like he’d have to run for very long, his fuse was getting shorter and shorter with every night that passed. But he didn’t— Sanghyuk would, one way or another, have to deal with those repercussions, most likely. If he let Jaehwan go. And Jaehwan knew he would.

On the other hand, digging his feet in and just waiting for them to come here seemed foolish as well. It would delay the inevitable by a few days at most, and put forth a bad image besides. Maybe if he cooperated— they didn’t know, did they, that he was so weak— perhaps he could bluff—

“Where?” Jaehwan asked finally. “Where do we have to go?”

“Not far,” Sanghyuk said. Slowly, his hands slid down Jaehwan’s arms until he could clasp hands with Jaehwan. “I’ll drive. If you’re willing.” Lower, softly, intimately, he added, “I’m not going to let them hurt you. I promise.”

Jaehwan wanted to believe that, wanted to take comfort in it. “I need to change,” he whispered, his way of accepting his fate, and even though Sanghyuk tried not to show it, he was clearly relieved. Jaehwan touched the marks on his neck, fingertips trembling. “Should I cover these? Or show them off?”

“Cover them, if you have a clothing item that does so,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan nodded shortly, thinking about what he had that was clean. It felt surreal. He might die, in whatever he chose, and yet it all felt so frivolous. 

“Can’t I have one night of peace?” Hongbin griped, silent after a scolding only so long. Jaehwan didn’t have it in him to say anything to him again, shuffling out of Sanghyuk’s grasp and heading towards the living room. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“The summons was for Jaehwan, not you, Hongbin,” Sanghyuk said quietly. “You’re welcome to stay here.”

Hongbin sighed, taking a large bite out of his lasagna. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he said indistinctly.

They were all idiots, Jaehwan rather thought, and instead of saying it out loud, he went in search of a turtleneck.

——

Hakyeon couldn’t have described the way he eased at his core when they pulled into the long driveway of the feeder house, its myriad windows glowing amber in the darkness. Centuries of living and he still couldn’t find the words for some things. Perhaps it was simply that there hadn’t yet been a word invented for the warm feeling of rightness that overtook him when he knew his children would soon be back in his arms. 

He let Minseok fiddle with their luggage, because he honestly couldn’t be bothered, and chose instead to sweep around the house and enter through the side door. It opened into the small room with the washing machines, dim and dark and empty, and from there he stepped into the thin side hallway, where the sudden light made him blink quickly. It felt glittery here, somehow— perhaps it was simply because the winding halls of Vrienyre had such fuzzy, ambient light, that softly intruded from everywhere and nowhere. The feeder house had chandeliers and bushels of lights gathered on the walls like flowers in a bouquet, and the marble floor gleamed with their reflected luminosity. And right now it felt like all of them were on.

Hakyeon squinted as he took the few steps into the main hallway. The place was alive, buzzing, with the feeling of activity. He couldn’t imagine Jongdae had allowed Sehun to fling his soiled laundry about the house, and yet there was a definite notion that people were tidying, preparing for guests as if the place was a wreck and not its usual pristine, orderly self. 

“Junmyeon,” Hakyeon said, catching sight of the human as he was skittering in through the large archway into the living room. 

Junmyeon took a step back, peering over at Hakyeon with his eyebrows raised. He looked a little pale, Hakyeon noticed. “Oh, Hakyeon,” Junmyeon said weakly. “You’re back.”

Hakyeon rather thought that was an observation that didn’t particularly warrant a response. He watched as Junmyeon’s gaze flickered over Hakyeon’s shoulder, as if he was expecting Kyungsoo to suddenly manifest. “What’s going on?” Hakyeon asked, and Junmyeon’s eyes snapped back to meet his. 

“Uh, we just—” Junmyeon stuttered, gesturing weakly around. One of the female feeders ran by, lowering her head respectfully as she passed Hakyeon. She was in sweats, and clutched in her hand was a thin towel and a spray bottle. The hall smelled like chemicals and artificial pine in her wake. “Chanyeol wanted us to open up the conference room, for— the guests.”

Hakyeon didn’t allow his expression to change. The conference room, when the house was built, had probably meant to be a formal dining room. Long and thin, it was meant to fit a lengthy table and not much else, but had a lovely view of the backyard. They never used it. What did vampires need of a dining room, and though they had repurposed it, Kyungsoo never was one for conferences. 

It had, somehow, completely escaped Hakyeon that while Chanyeol was here, he would be the reigning party. This was Kyungsoo’s house — and Hakyeon’s too, though it still felt like a foreign limb — but Chanyeol was King now.

The events to come felt too grave for Hakyeon to smile, but it would be interesting, to see the power dynamic of Kyungsoo and Chanyeol play out. 

“I see,” Hakyeon said. Junmyeon blinked, as if expectant. He surely knew Kyungsoo would not have chosen things to be done this way. Perhaps he expected Hakyeon to be the same. “I’ll let you get back to— what you were doing.”

Junmyeon nodded jerkily and skittered into the living room, and Hakyeon strode briskly down the main hall towards the grand entranceway, found the double doors to the conference room flung wide open. It was currently empty, the long table gleaming from the polishing it had no doubt just received. This was the first time Hakyeon had seen the table at all. The room generally was kept closed off, the table and the chairs hidden under large white sheets, because Kyungsoo prefered to conduct his meetings, of sorts, in close quarters meant to intimidate. 

This was intimidating in its own right, but it also felt more— clinical. The room smelled like pine and alcohol. 

“Hakyeon.”

His eyes skittered from the brightness of the conference room to the slightly dimmer hallway, landing on Wonshik rapidly approaching with Taekwoon following like a shadow. A shadow in a mustard-yellow sweater. 

Wonshik grabbed Hakyeon and hugged him hard, thumping his broad hand on the center of Hakyeon’s back and forcing some air out of Hakyeon’s lungs. He put his own hands on Wonshik’s back, far more gently, and held him close for the span of two human heartbeats before letting go. Wonshik stepped back, hands falling away from Hakyeon’s body, his eyes cast to the ground almost shyly. A lump rose in Hakyeon’s throat in tandem with the warmth swelling in his chest— he really had missed his children.

Taekwoon caught Hakyeon by surprise, nudging in close and wrapping his arms around Hakyeon’s middle in a tentative embrace. Hakyeon squeaked quietly in surprise as Taekwoon buried his face into the crook of his neck— for a brief second, Hakyeon thought perhaps Taekwoon hadn’t fed yet, and had regressed and was going to take a nibble. But he didn’t. He simply held Hakyeon close, his lashes tickling at Hakyeon’s neck as he blinked. 

“You came back,” Taekwoon mumbled, the words very quiet and rounded around the edges.

Hakyeon let himself put his hands on Taekwoon’s shoulders, revelling in their sturdiness. He had to arch a little to accommodate Taekwoon’s height. “I promised you I would,” Hakyeon said softly, and Taekwoon sniffed. His hair was so soft against Hakyeon’s skin, and he didn’t know how he should feel about it, how Taekwoon wanted him to feel. 

No, he did know. Taekwoon had been frightened. And he was frightened now. He needed Hakyeon to be his comfort, to protect him. To protect what he loved. That was all. 

Hakyeon let his eyes flutter closed, allowing himself to enjoy the sensation of Taekwoon’s body against his for just a moment before he shifted, pushing very gently on Taekwoon’s shoulders to disengage him. Taekwoon, seemingly with some reluctance, pulled back. As he did so, his cheek brushed against Hakyeon’s, and he turned his face enough— just enough— that his lips dragged over Hakyeon’s cheekbone, lingering for a noticeable beat. Then Taekwoon was several steps away, hands hidden in his sweater sleeves and holding onto his own upper arms hard.

Had Hakyeon imagined it. He didn’t think so. There was a bit of dampness where Taekwoon’s mouth had touched. 

Hakyeon exhaled. Taekwoon was more rattled about this whole situation than Hakyeon would have expected.

He turned to Wonshik, took note of how he almost looked frazzled. Maybe even haggard. _Older_. “Where’s Sanghyuk?” Hakyeon asked, eyes searching.

“Getting Jaehwan,” Wonshik replied. There was something there, in his words, and his eyes, that Hakyeon couldn’t place. “They should be here— any minute.”

Hakyeon wanted wanted to ask why Wonshik was looking at him that way, what message he was holding behind his eyes. He rather thought it might be important. But if Wonshik wasn’t saying it aloud, then that meant there were too many ears present for the words. 

Taekwoon was still staring at the ground. 

“Is—” Hakyeon began, unsure what he was even going to say. 

It didn’t matter though, because through the marbled glass that framed the double front doors, lights flashed. Headlights. Hakyeon recognized the uneven catch in the motor. 

“Get Chanyeol,” Hakyeon ordered, feeling his self-control settle over him like a cloak even as he listened to Taekwoon’s breathing speed up, rasping through parted lips. 

——

Hongbin hadn’t really thought they’d be brought to a graveyard or otherwise macabre crypt sort of location for this meeting. Logically, he knew that would be stupid. But somehow he was still slightly blindsided when Sanghyuk pulled the car into the long winding drive of a house that looked like it could belong to some ritzy politician, rather than to Dr. Frankenstein. The lawn was lush and green in a way that suggested to Hongbin it might be artificial, and the shrubs that lined the front gardens were trimmed into perfect spheres and cubes. Every window was intact and glowing, the stones of the house a pale grey and tidy. 

There wasn’t even any dramatic lightning to crackle ominously behind the house. It was just a house. A big, stupidly expensive house. 

Sanghyuk parked the car just shy of the two quaint steps leading up to the grand double doors that were the house’s main entrance. They looked to be heavy wood, the windows on either side of them marbled glass in reds and golds.

“Woah,” Jaehwan breathed, and Sanghyuk cut the engine. Jaehwan’s overlarge nose was practically pressed to his window as he peered out.

Into the silence, Hongbin announced, “This is bullshit.” He undid his seatbelt, letting it clatter back roughly. “No really, I fucking hate all you rich undead fuckers.”

“I recommend keeping that sentiment to yourself once we’re inside,” Sanghyuk murmured coolly with a pointed look back at him. “Hunter.”

Hongbin didn’t like the way his heart stuttered at that, dread sweeping through him. He pressed his lips together, shoving his door open and getting out without responding. The night was frigid, a cold front sweeping in, and Hongbin wasn’t dressed for it. He wasn’t really dressed for a place like this either, though. 

The double front doors of the house opened, light spilling out in molten gold sheets. Hakyeon stood, bracing one hand on each door, his unmistakable silhouette carved lovingly by the glow of the lights behind him. Hongbin couldn’t see his face, the details of his clothes; he was a paper cut shadow.

Jaehwan clambered out of the car, shivering dramatically as he did so, his breath spilling out over his lips like mist from the surface of a lake. Hongbin wondered if he was afraid. He liked to think Jaehwan did have some brain cells clanging around in that fair-haired skull of his.

Hongbin swallowed, giving the car door a good shove so it slammed closed and then stomping up the two steps so he could get into the house. As Hongbin got closer and his eyes adjusted, Hakyeon fully emerged from the featureless spectre of darkness he’d been, becoming three dimensional and solid once more. 

Hakyeon moved aside so Hongbin didn’t have to push past him— and Hongbin was grateful for it. His blood felt thick in his veins, racing, fingertips trembling. He wouldn’t have been better off right now, for having touched a vampire.

Maybe it was the saturation of magic, vampire magic, in the air, combined with the sudden warmth and glittery, golden light, but Hongbin felt like he’d crossed some kind of border, stepped through the mirror, so to speak. It might have felt dreamlike, except vampire magic didn’t so much caress the soul as it did rake over it with claws, and boy did Hongbin feel like he was bleeding, in so many ways. 

Part of it, a large part of it, was surely the deja vu that settled like a fog over Hongbin’s mind, from being in a place like this. He stopped a few paces in, gazing around, feeling like a child again. 

The entrance hall was large, sprawling, white marble floors gleaming both from being polished as well as from the striations of gold running through the stone. Pressed flush to the walls on Hongbin’s either side were narrow tables, carved shields and lion heads and flourishes along the wood, the feet of them shaped into lion’s paws where they met the stone floor. And above them, giving the illusion of eternity, were giant mirrors, facing one another from opposite walls, their frames gilded and thick. 

Hongbin turned to look ahead of himself, straightening his spine and raising his head as he listened to Jaehwan’s footsteps click on the floor as he came inside, Sanghyuk silent as a shadow but surely behind him all the same. The door made little noise as it closed, Hongbin knowing it had shut simply by the fact that the chill night air stopped whispering at his back. 

There were a set of double doors across the entrance hall, propped wide open, and a broad stairway beside them. Dual hallways branched off on either side of the entranceway, but Hongbin thought where they led would remain a mystery for right now. He couldn’t imagine they’d be given a tour, and he didn’t particularly want one. The opulence was designed to both elevate and intimidate. Hongbin coveted it, but also decidedly wanted to turn the fuck around and never come back. Maybe he wasn’t built for this world after all.

Beside the open double doors across from him stood Wonshik, wearing ugly dark wash jeans and an ugly shirt to go with his ugly face. Somehow his incongruity with the surroundings soothed Hongbin, made them feel less oppressive, and more ridiculous. He broke the illusion. 

Taekwoon was there too. But he didn’t help set Hongbin at ease. He looked just as lost. 

There were whispers behind Hongbin, and he turned just in time to see Sanghyuk pulling away from Hakyeon, hands slipping down his arms as he stepped back. Jaehwan’s eyes were large in his sweet face, darting from Sanghyuk to the room around them. He mostly looked off-balance, which wasn’t surprising. This would all be new to him. Jaehwan had never stepped foot inside even a three-star hotel, and this place looked like a pretentious five-star. He’d lived his life covered in dust. 

“You alright?” Sanghyuk murmured, returning to Jaehwan’s side as if drawn there by a magnet. 

Jaehwan blinked, sparkles shining over his irises. “It’s just— a lot,” he said, eyes flickering to look at Sanghyuk’s face. “Is this place yours?”

“Well, it’s Hakyeon’s, sort of. He co-owns it,” Sanghyuk said, and Hongbin froze, just a bit. Was this— the feeder house, Jongin’s feeder house? Hongbin was going to be fucking pissed if it was. More pissed. Sanghyuk squinted around, nose crinkling. “It is a lot. Do you think it’s too much?” He sounded like he actually cared about Jaehwan’s opinion on interior decorating. As if it mattered. Hakyeon was scowling. Whether it was because he didn’t appreciate a mere mortal being consulted in the important matters of his decor, or because he felt it was inconsequential given the gravity of the situation at hand, Hongbin couldn’t fucking say.

He really, really wished he had some kind of alcoholic beverage in his hand. Maybe before the evil vampire council decided to rip their jugulars out they’d let him have some vodka. 

“I mean, I like it?” Jaehwan said. His tone was overly light, and very— precise. Like he was holding onto it tightly. So. He wasn’t quite as calm as he was pretending to be. That was possibly good. So long as he could maintain the mask of composure. It showed he wasn’t a complete fool at least. “It’s— pretty? And reminds me sort of, I don’t know, Marie Antoinette? Like, of cake and France.”

Hongbin thought he heard Wonshik snort. He eyed one of the tables, with its lion head carvings, sharp teeth bared. “The tables are from Italy,” Hongbin muttered, very lowly, mostly for his own benefit. He thought the mirrors and vases might be too, but he wasn’t going to say it when he wasn’t sure. 

“Tuscany, to be exact,” a very deep voice said, the rumbles of it echoing around the room. 

Hongbin startled a little, face whipping around to see several new vampires coming in from the hallway to their left. Hongbin didn’t miss the way Wonshik inclined his head as they walked by, Taekwoon imitating the motion a beat after. Hongbin thought about curtseying, but he refrained.

While most of the vampires gathered by where Wonshik and Taekwoon stood, fanning out by the open doorway to the mysterious room (Was it a torture chamber? A dungeon? Hongbin knew they’d soon find out) the tallest of them kept moving, making his way lazily towards them. He moved like no creature Hongbin had ever seen before, and even though he had the form of a young man, garbed in jeans and a grey sweater, he didn’t seem human any more than a nuclear blast did. 

And that was what he reminded Hongbin of. Or perhaps of a dying star, its matter condensed and impossibly bright, energy screaming. 

The vampire stopped in front of Hongbin, and Hongbin had to tip his head up to look at his chin, which was where he aimed his gaze. It was safer than trying to take in the vampire’s face, even though it was just that— a face. It felt impossible this creature could have one at all. 

“I don’t suppose,” the vampire said slowly, the timbre of his voice shaking through Hongbin’s bones, “you could tell me the wood?”

It took Hongbin a few long, cringing seconds to catch onto what the vampire meant. He looked back at the tables. “Mahogany,” he said, and was surprised when his voice came out steady. 

The vampire hummed, eyebrow quirking. Hongbin knew he was right. They could write that on his fucking tombstone. _Here lies Hongbin, beloved friend, he was smarter than everyone else and they really should have listened to him more_. Jaehwan could weep prettily on Sanghyuk’s shoulder and Taekwoon could cry tears of blood. It would be very cinematic.

A hand came up, the vampire pointing gently at him. “This one is human,” he rumbled quietly, and then his hand swept away, motioning somewhere to Hongbin’s left. “This one isn’t.” Hongbin rotated, as much as he could. He felt like he was wooden, and was surprised he didn’t creak as he turned to glance at Jaehwan. Hongbin hoped his own poker face was better than Jaehwan’s. Jaehwan didn’t seem to have one. “Jaehwan. The sorcerer.”

Jaehwan inclined his head a little. “Yes.” He was pressing against Sanghyuk’s side, as if Sanghyuk could protect him. Prior to tonight, Hongbin had thought he maybe could. But that dream was shattered, like they always would be. 

The vampire in front of Hongbin hummed again, and looked back at Hongbin, seeming to take him in. Hongbin really wished he wouldn’t. “And so who is this?” he asked the room at large. 

“Hongbin.” Wonshik’s voice was louder than Hongbin would have anticipated, but then he was close, and Hongbin hadn’t seen him approach. He walked around the strange vampire, settling to Hongbin’s right, a good foot of space between them. “This is Hongbin,” he said, voice low but not as deep as this other vamp’s. Not nearly as wrong-sounding, either. “He’s Jaehwan and Taekwoon’s— friend.” It was a lame finish, and no one missed that fact.

“Friend,” the vampire echoed, flat. 

He brought his hand up, fingers pushing under Hongbin’s chin and tilting his face up, to the side. Hongbin pressed his lips together hard to keep himself from shrieking at the contact— it didn’t hurt, it was just cold, but baring his neck like this—

“Bait,” the vampire murmured, eyes lingering over Hongbin’s scars. “The other half of the hunting duo.”

There was nothing Hongbin could say to that, nor Wonshik, nor any of them. Hongbin hadn’t thought this through— Jaehwan had Sanghyuk to hide behind, even if that might not be the most solid of plans— but Hongbin had no shield, no justification for why he shouldn’t be hurt or disposed of. Pointing out that he was a _retired_ hunter didn’t seem like the best defense. 

The vampire’s gaze moved from the long length of Hongbin’s vulnerable neck to Wonshik. Hongbin was too frightened to try and see what face Wonshik was making, but whatever it was, it had the frankly terrifying vampire making a little noise and stepping back, hand dropping from Hongbin’s chin. 

“Well, Hongbin,” the vampire said, eyes moving over Hongbin for the briefest of moments before quite obviously dismissing him. “Jaehwan. I’m Chanyeol.”

Hongbin wondered if that was supposed to mean something to them. He still wanted to curtsey. Not even terror could fully curb his stupid brain.

He didn’t actually do it. But he was mad the impulse was still there. 

Hakyeon came around from behind them, taking a place next to Chanyeol. He looked small in comparison, his voice musical like a flute. “Chanyeol is the recently elected King of this area,” Hakyeon said softly, and that did mean something, but Hongbin knew fuck-all about vampire politics, so it didn’t mean _much_. “And he’s my maker’s brother.” Hakyeon frowned. “Not by birth— they shared a maker.”

Vampire family ties. Like Sanghyuk had mentioned. Theoretically, connections within the justice system would be an asset. But Chanyeol didn’t look like the type to be swayed by— anything. Not even blood. 

And could they, truly, rely on Hakyeon to speak for them anyway. 

In the ensuing silence Chanyeol stared down at them, eyes half-lidded. Perhaps they were supposed to bow, or grovel. He was a King, after all. And he sure as fuck wasn’t offering to simply shake their hands. In the end Hongbin simply nodded a little, to show he’d been listening and hadn’t gone completely catatonic. 

Wonshik, very softly, touched Hongbin’s arm. 

“Shall we get this meeting underway?” Jaehwan asked, his voice loud if not steady. Hongbin felt him step forward, until he was a pale hint in Hongbin’s peripheral vision. “I imagine we all probably have better things to do.”

The corner of Chanyeol’s mouth quirked up, as if he found Jaehwan’s posturing cute. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly polite, no hint of condescension. “Of course, come this way,” he murmured, turning and stepping away. His shoes should have clicked on the marble flooring, but they didn’t. Hongbin’s eyes flickered down, checking that he even had a shadow underneath him. “We don’t have a true conference, room— I hope you’ll excuse us.”

Hakyeon followed first, an unchanging stone, then Jaehwan, and Hongbin caught his frame trembling slightly. Sanghyuk followed in his wake, the tide pursuing the moon, and then Wonshik was gently nudging Hongbin forward. Hongbin wanted to lean into him, wanted the shield of Wonshik’s body. But he stepped away instead, fast enough that Wonshik’s touch was yanked away from him, leaving an icy spot where his fingertips had been burning against Hongbin’s back.

Chanyeol led them to the open double doors, and this close to the mysterious room, Hongbin could smell pine, and the artificial slap of cleaner. The group of vampires shifted as they approached, and Taekwoon wrung his hands inside his overlong sleeves. Four. There were four vampires Hongbin didn’t know, varying in heights and dress. None of them had the same sort of aura Chanyeol oozed, but one came close. Where Chanyeol was tall, this other one was short, and clearly turned in his teens. Chanyeol looked like— it was impossible to tell. He could have been turned anywhere from the age of nineteen to twenty-six. 

The short vampire had his gaze pinned on Jaehwan with a level of fixation that was downright unnerving. 

Chanyeol stopped in the doorframe, throwing his arm out and gesturing into the room. “Please,” he murmured, and Jaehwan stuttered, just for a moment. Hakyeon stepped around him and entered the room, tossing a look over his shoulder that had Taekwoon coming forward. He murmured something to Jaehwan, his hands pawing softly at Jaehwan’s shoulder, and together the two of them went past Chanyeol. 

Sanghyuk made to follow, but Chanyeol grabbed his arm, tugging him back so firmly Sanghyuk stumbled back and almost stepped on Hongbin’s toes. 

“No,” Chanyeol murmured, and then leaned over, so he could see Hongbin around Sanghyuk’s overlarge frame. “The human.”

Hongbin found himself propelled forward by a hand at his back— in the same place. Wonshik again. But the hand left him as soon as he crossed into the room. Hongbin’s feet felt leaden, eyes skittering over the room— the lighting in here was harsher, white, and the table in the center of the room was long and took up most of the available space. There were a lot of chairs. He turned to look behind himself in time to see the small vampire skitter into the room, moving close enough to Hongbin that all the hairs on Hongbin’s arms stood on end. 

Chanyeol stood in the open doorway, his hand still on Sanghyuk’s arm. Here, Hongbin could see his expression— wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. Wonshik’s was the same.

“Sir?” one of the other vampires said, edging forward. He had the sort of face Hongbin would expect to see on an imp. Some sort of playful but mischievous creature. 

With his free hand Chanyeol gestured at him to stop. “No,” he murmured again, though it was still said gently. 

Another vampire stepped forward, placing a hand importantly on his chest. “I think—”

“Jongdae, if I’m not letting Minseok in, why would I let you in?” Chanyeol asked, and this time it was decidedly less gentle.

“I’m prettier than Minseok,” was Jongdae’s retort. “Also I’m _family_ —”

“You’re a gossip,” Chanyeol said flatly, clearly ending the conversation. “And Sehun, I don’t know why you’re standing here— all of you go find something to occupy yourselves with. You know this room is spelled to be soundproof, no point listening at keyholes. Go.”

At the command, one of the vampires, the one that had yet to speak, took a jerky step back, like he’d been momentarily possessed. The other two simply shifted a little, no longer poised to edge forward.

Sanghyuk looked close to panicking as Chanyeol stepped away, grabbing for the doorknob of one of the doors. “Chanyeol—” he began, even as Chanyeol shut the first door in his face. Sanghyuk quickly grabbed onto the edge of the second, immobilizing it only because Chanyeol allowed him to. “I’m a witness for Jaehwan, I have important information to contribute.”

Chanyeol stared him down, and Hongbin was amazed that Sanghyuk didn’t flinch at all. After a long moment, Chanyeol looked over his shoulder, addressing Jaehwan. “Is this true?”

Jaehwan nodded shortly. “Yes,” he said, though it was half a gasp. The idea of his protection being stripped away from him had very visibly rattled him— and Hongbin didn’t think it was a good idea to show it. Chanyeol could very well keep Sanghyuk out simply on the basis that doing so would be beneficial to him. Jaehwan open, vulnerable, without anyone to stay Chanyeol from ripping him apart. “He’s— necessary.”

Chanyeol’s gaze was lazy, and he stepped aside and wordlessly beckoned Sanghyuk through. Sanghyuk flickered inside with vampire speed, jangling Hongbin’s nerves further. In his place at the doorway, Wonshik shoved to the front of the small crowd, eyes a bit wild. “Me too,” he said.

“You have important information?” Chanyeol asked lightly, though the meaning was not light at all.

Wonshik wilted, a little, and fear spiked sickly in Hongbin. “No,” Wonshik muttered, a low rumble. His gaze flashed to Hongbin, meeting his eyes. “But—”

Chanyeol closed the second door before Wonshik could continue, shutting him out, shutting them in, and with the click of the latch catching came a strange, heavy silence. Hongbin hadn’t realized how much noise had been filtering in from the rest of the house, but with it cut off, the only sounds his and Jaehwan’s breathing, it made it all the more stark.

Hongbin pressed his lips together and held his breath for a moment to keep himself from making any kind of noise. Jaehwan had his— whatever the fuck Sanghyuk was. But there was no one to speak for Hongbin. Save maybe Taekwoon, and Hakyeon, if he deigned it worthy of breath. 

Chanyeol whirled, the effect slightly dramatic due to his grace. “Now,” he said, bringing his hands together in a single clap. He surveyed them critically, then moved, faster than Hongbin could hope to keep track of. He was there, by the doors, and then he was gone and his voice was coming from behind them. Hongbin couldn’t help startling, whirling as Chanyeol said, “Kyungsoo, here.”

Chanyeol was at the head of the conference table, sitting in the chair there as if it was a throne. His hand was placed on the table in front of the chair to his right, and after a strange pause, the small vampire’s expression a little sour, he sat in the proffered seat. He locked eyes with Chanyeol for another long moment, and Chanyeol smiled at him, humorless and just a little— fangy. “Excellent,” Chanyeol said. He moved his hand in front of the seat directly to his left. “And as the guest of honor, Jaehwan, you can sit here. We have much to discuss.”

Jaehwan moved slower than the vampires, and it was clear taking his assigned place was a bit difficult. He kept looking at Chanyeol without actually looking at him— it was like trying to stare at the sun. But Chanyeol was such a large presence in the room, such a horrible, wrong presence, that it was impossible to deny the human instinct to keep track of him and what he was doing. 

In the end, Jaehwan took his seat, and when he scooted his chair in, maybe he moved it a good few inches to the left, further from Chanyeol. Maybe.

Sanghyuk didn’t wait for any orders, he immediately sat on Jaehwan’s other side. Chanyeol apparently had no issue with this, and the small vampire murmured, “Hakyeon.” His eyes lowered to the empty seat at his right.

Hakyeon obeyed the quiet command, taking Taekwoon’s wrist in hand and leading him as he did so. They sat side by side. Taekwoon went — for lack of a better word — meekly. 

The fact that Taekwoon was clearly afraid too just made Hongbin’s fear worse.

No one told Hongbin where to sit, but for the sake of balance, he sat on Sanghyuk’s other side, so he was directly across from Taekwoon. His hands were shaking so badly that pulling the chair out had been difficult, and every noise he made seemed amplified in juxtaposition to the undead silence of the vampires. The sound of his breathing was too fucking much.

“Excellent,” Chanyeol said again, though this time it was barely more than a whisper. At the head of the table he resembled a spider that had gotten all the threads of its web placed perfectly. 

The small vampire at his right leaned forward, elbows on the table, and he opened his mouth, barely a sound escaping, before Hakyeon jerked, sitting up straight from where he’d been reclining, and gestured at the small vampire. “I forgot, yes— this is Kyungsoo,” Hakyeon said quickly, blurting it out, and Kyungsoo’s lips pressed together. Slowly, as Hakyeon continued to speak, Kyungsoo sat back again, his hands trailing over the table until they fell into his lap. “He is my maker, and former King of this area. He also owns this— establishment, alongside me.”

“Charmed,” Kyungsoo said tartly, arms crossing over his chest. 

Former King. And Chanyeol was the current King. Vampire brothers. But Hakyeon had said before that Chanyeol had been elected— so a royal position wasn’t a bloodline inheritance. And yet they’d both managed to attain the position. Two vampire children made one after the other, most likely. Or perhaps a good century apart. Like Wonshik and Sanghyuk.

They were both old. Having them both there, side by side, it was too much at once. In their old age they felt so inhuman that looking at them gave Hongbin the full heebie-jeebies. As opposed to the half heebie-jeebies.

He could feel the hysteria bubbling up in his chest.

The pause drew out as Chanyeol and Kyungsoo met eyes, some silent communication passing between them. Briefly, Hongbin wondered if very old vampires were capable of telepathy, but the rational side of his brain that wasn’t a screaming fever pitch of fear quickly dismissed that as being fucking stupid. 

Kyungsoo exhaled, impatiently gesturing down the table with a sharp flick of his wrist. “Just get on with it,” he said, slouching back in his seat with his lips pursed. Considering he was Hakyeon’s maker, and this place was at least partially owned by him, it stood to reason he might be a bit perturbed about a King coming in and ruling in his castle, so to speak. Even if said King was his brother. Sort of. 

While Chanyeol most surely noticed Kyungsoo’s mood, he did not blink at it, instead shifting so his forearms rested on the table, so he could give Jaehwan his undivided his attention. Hongbin did not envy Jaehwan at the moment, even with his lump of besotted vampire muscle at his side. 

“I have been told,” Chanyeol began, speaking calmly in his deep voice, “that somehow, you spelled a vial of blood to emit sunlight. I imagine you understand why it is of such interest to us.”

Jaehwan nodded carefully, fingertips clutching at the edge of the table. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

“Is it sunlight for true?” If it was possible, Chanyeol’s voice dropped even further. 

Hongbin knew this was why they were here, and that they couldn’t run from it anymore, but it felt so wrong, to be talking about this in a room full of vampires. They’d been so careful, ever since— since it had happened, this terrible secret they had to keep close to their hearts lest one or two or all three of them go to prison. Or perhaps die.

“Yes,” Jaehwan answered, the word barely formed around an exhale. As if the admission made softly, gently, would lessen its blow.

But Chanyeol didn’t seem surprised. He didn’t seem like anything at all. Hongbin wasn’t sure if that was because of how utterly alien he was, or if he legitimately had a very good poker face. It was probably both. “As I understand it, Hakyeon has asked you for the specifics of the spell, and you have not divulged it, despite ample incentive,” Chanyeol continued, still measured and calm. “I’m not asking. You will tell us.”

It was so matter of fact, so simple, presented as the only option. They would. Or this was over.

There was a long tense moment, and it was thick with— not resistance, but maybe resilience. If they did talk, it would be because Jaehwan chose to, not because their arms were being twisted.

“I would like to cooperate with you,” Jaehwan said slowly, clearly thinking about each word before it left his mouth. For once. He was no King, and he was very young, especially in comparison to many of the other creatures present. He did not have their wisdom, nor much talent for diplomacy. But he was trying. “Before I do though I need a promise, from you, that after I have told you what you want to know I will not be killed.”

Chanyeol didn’t seem particularly fazed by this demand, though he was very— intent. “I will give you the respect of being honest; I cannot guarantee your life. This spell is a threat, and so, you are a threat,” he said, and Taekwoon made a small noise of distress even as Hongbin felt his face paling, lips cold. Chanyeol held his hand up in a small placating motion. “However, given your relationship with Taekwoon, I can promise to try and make concessions.”

“And _I_ can guarantee you won’t be walking out of here if you _don’t_ cooperate,” Kyungsoo said loudly, and for all that he had a soft face, a small frame, the threat was very menacing. “My patience has run out. How’s that for incentive.”

Not great. Hongbin was slowly shaking his head, feeling his eyes wide in his face. The lightbulbs in the chandelier above their heads were rattling, just slightly, and Jaehwan’s fingertips had gone white from his hard grip on the table’s edge. 

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol admonished lowly, his eyes casting upwards to watch the chandelier shaking. 

Sanghyuk cleared his throat, leaning so his shoulder was pressed to Jaehwan’s. He touched fingertips to the high collar of Jaehwan’s turtleneck, and Jaehwan went from staring Kyungsoo down to peering up at Sanghyuk’s face questioningly. The lightbulbs stopped rattling in their holders, though the chandelier still swayed a little residually. 

Gently, Sanghyuk hooked his fingers into the neck of Jaehwan’s sweater, tugging it down just enough to expose the neat little fang marks at the base of his neck. Hakyeon gave a little judder, a vibration of movement that wasn’t like any animal Hongbin had ever seen before, then went terrifyingly still, in that way only vampires did. Taekwoon looked away from Jaehwan and Sanghyuk like the sight of them was shameful. 

“I claimed him,” Sanghyuk murmured, and Jaehwan blushed prettily. Hongbin wondered at that phrasing. Claimed. Owned. It rubbed him badly, but Hongbin got the impression the words were somehow— magical. Binding. “He’s mine.” Sanghyuk let Jaehwan’s sweater go, and Jaehwan quickly fiddled with it, bringing it back into place. His blush lingered over the pale expanse of his cheeks, the tips of his ears.

Chanyeol stared levelly at Sanghyuk, and Sanghyuk, maybe a bit in defiance, stared back, his chin tipped up. He was of a height with Chanyeol, or near enough to it that Chanyeol couldn’t intimidatingly loom over him. All he could do was intimidatingly stare.

“This is your important information,” Chanyeol said, and it was almost a question, except it answered itself. Sanghyuk gave a sort of lazy shoulder roll in acknowledgement, and Kyungsoo— he hissed, but it was just the sound of a sharp inhale, and his head snapped to the side so he could glare up at Hakyeon. But Hakyeon didn’t react, eyes fixated forward, his body still unmoving, frozen. Deliberately frozen, so none of his body language could give anything away. This news had caught him just as off guard as Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, which was a bit surprising to Hongbin. None of his beloved children had bothered to tell him.

As Kyungsoo continued to bore holes into the side of Hakyeon’s head, clearly seething, Hongbin realized it wasn’t that Sanghyuk and Wonshik hadn’t told Hakyeon because they didn’t trust him, but rather to keep it from Kyungsoo. It was highly possible that Kyungsoo might have put measures into place before this meeting, if he’d been able to anticipate this. And Hongbin didn’t fully understand the power dynamics of a maker and child relationship. Possibly, Hakyeon wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret if Kyungsoo had asked.

“By claiming him you accept the consequences?” Chanyeol asked, eyebrows raised. These words, too, felt like they were more. More than just conversation. More than their meaning. “You lay his sins at your feet and give your flesh to the post in his stead?”

That was quite a line. Hongbin felt himself scowling, even though he knew he should be trying to remain unfazed. He couldn’t help it. He saw his expression echoed on Taekwoon’s face. 

“Yes,” Sanghyuk whispered, very softly. Jaehwan peered up at him in wide-eyed confusion. “I do.”

Kyungsoo’s face was a pinched, scowling little ball of anger. It was like someone had pulled a drawstring through his seams, everything drawn to the center. Eyebrows scrunched down, mouth curved, nostrils flared. Chanyeol, on the other hand, was ironed flat, face as calm as a dead sea. His eyes were the only part that showed a spark. Unlike Kyungsoo, it wasn’t anger, it was more— appraisal, maybe even admiration. He perhaps could appreciate Sanghyuk’s cleverness. 

But it was still a definite blow, and he sighed as he reclined back so he was slouching in his seat, shifting completely out from his prior tactic of intimidation. Quite suddenly, it was like a veil had been ripped away, and he was marginally less terrifying. Hongbin blinked. Had Chanyeol— been projecting glamour? Hongbin hadn’t known that was possible, but he was finding he knew a loss less about vampires than previously thought. And Chanyeol was _old_. Substantial powers must come from such an asset.

Why he had dropped the glamour, was yet another thing Hongbin wasn’t entirely sure of. It had been quite a persuasive gambit, to say the least.

“Well,” Chanyeol said, clipped and almost sardonic, “it behooves me to advise you to tell your human that talking would be a wise choice.”

Just as quickly as Chanyeol’s glamour had vanished, realization jolted through Hongbin, all the pieces clicking together into a larger picture. “You can’t harm a claimed human,” Hongbin said softly, as if in a daze. He barely realized he’d spoken, in the midst of this strange revelation of vampire laws. 

Every eye turned on him then, and the momentary trance evaporated like water droplets on baking pavement. Hongbin swallowed, shrinking back, but he could see the cogs turning in Taekwoon’s mind. Suddenly the— the fucking absurdity of last night made more sense. 

“So says the law,” Kyungsoo spat. He turned back towards Hakyeon. “Order your child to stop being an idiot. Or I’m going to order you to stop being an idiot.”

Hakyeon simmered with unhappiness, cold and sharp as an arctic breeze, and Sanghyuk made a small noise that was almost a growl. He made it in Kyungsoo’s direction.

Chanyeol put a hand up, a swift motion, and the noise ceased. “Let’s not,” he said firmly. “Let’s not. Hakyeon?”

Hakyeon settled, eyes cast down so he was staring flatly at the grain of the table between them. There was a slight notch between his brows. “Jaehwan,” he murmured, “for Sanghyuk’s sake, please tell us.”

That made Jaehwan’s grip on the table relax utterly, his hands falling into his lap as his shoulders rounded. Neither he nor Hongbin could fully understand all the implications of what just happened, but the precariousness of it was obvious. There was still a hint of danger, warm breathing too close to the napes of their necks, something lurking just out of sight— just a general sensation of wrongness, enough to keep them on their toes. But it had decidedly shifted from the overt threat of before.

Jaehwan, his dark eyes liquid in his pale face, peered up at Sanghyuk as if he was a child needing guidance. Sanghyuk nodded at him, ever so slightly, and Jaehwan’s face twisted miserably, but Hongbin saw any remaining fight go out of him. 

“It can’t be replicated,” Jaehwan said softly. “It can’t be— extorted. It was an accident.”

Chanyeol sat up a little straighter. “Was it so much of an accident that you have no idea what you did?” he asked. “Was it unintentional?”

Stiffly, Jaehwan turned bodily towards Chanyeol, like the motion cost him effort. “No,” he admitted. Underneath the table, Sanghyuk’s hand crept over, fingers interlacing with Jaehwan’s. “Taekwoon asked me to try. Try making a sunlight— thing. Charm. Spell. Anything. Anything I could get to stick.”

“And you succeeded,” Chanyeol said, a small amount of reverence in his tone. “Centuries of people trying and failing, and you succeeded. How.”

Jaehwan deflated a little, brow crinkling like a ripple over a sand dune. His renewed silence wasn’t due to a sudden returned burst of reticence— Hongbin knew he was simply trying to get his thought together to explain this. Magic was a hard thing to box into words even for the average sorcerer, and harder still for Jaehwan, who felt magic, but didn’t _know_ it.

“Spells need energy,” Jaehwan finally said, the words slow and careful. “They need energy to be born, and energy to live, and once that energy runs out, they die.” Chanyeol nodded. This was basic spellwork, and even people who weren’t magically inclined got at least a minimal amount of schooling on the subject. Then again, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo probably hadn’t attended school as Hongbin had known it. “I went through dozens of spellbooks, cross referencing so many other people’s failed attempts. They all said animal sacrifice didn't generate enough energy— they said _human_ sacrifice didn't generate enough energy.” Jaehwan have a small shrug, mouth twisting up at one side. “I thought I’d try anyway. I don’t know what I was thinking. As if a jar of lamb’s blood or a dagger blade digging into into my palm would generate enough energy when I’d just read that full on ritual sacrifice didn't work.”

Jaehwan’s voice had grown wobbly, and he looked across the table at Taekwoon, who swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry,” Taekwoon whispered, barely audible.

“What did you do?” For the first time Sanghyuk sounded uneasy. 

“I— we nabbed a chicken— I’d never killed anything before, not like that,” Jaehwan said, tone changing as he grew a little defensive, ears turning red. The admission was probably ridiculous, given the current company. “I thought— but it was just messy and bloody, and the whole ordeal left me shaky and frustrated and— on an impulse I cut my forearm open, to add some of my own blood to the mix.” Jaehwan swallowed, his throat working around it, and Sanghyuk tracked the movement with an intensity disproportionate to the action. “The spell doesn’t work with a finite energy source. That was the problem. It needs a very large amount of energy to even manifest, and then a constant flow to keep it living. Sacrificial death will not work. That can generate large amounts of energy but— it runs out.”

Kyungsoo leaned forward intently, a hand braced on the table, fingers splayed, like he was preparing to pounce. Hongbin didn’t think he was actually going to, but his resemblance to a large cat stalking prey in the grass was difficult to overlook. In juxtaposition, Chanyeol was utterly still, nothing about him living. He didn’t breathe, and he didn’t blink. It was like looking at a corpse for true. 

Jaehwan’s eyes glittered, his gaze turned inward. “What I didn’t realize was— sacrifice doesn’t have to be death,” he whispered, shivering. Hongbin would never know what it had felt for Jaehwan— his own memory of that awful night was just fear, sick, nauseating fear. The swell of magic in the air, thick and acrid, burning Hongbin’s throat as he swallowed it down, Jaehwan clawing desperately at his own chest, nails opening long thin wounds over the bumps of his ribcage, the blood pouring from Jaehwan’s nose and mouth, choking him, and through it he still gasped, _it burns, it burns_ — “I used blood from a vein. It took my body as its starting sacrifice— and then my blood for its fuel. It’s— in me. It lives under my skin. It’s eating me from the inside out. My body can keep up with its demands— but not well. Not with a wide enough margin. Slowly, it’s killing me.

“I was— I am— a very strong sorcerer. But this is why it cannot be replicated. Most others would have died when the spell took hold. I almost did.” Jaehwan’s voice had become flat, almost trancelike, and he blinked, once, his gaze shifting to see the room around them once more. He glanced over at Hongbin, then Taekwoon, before pulling himself up and looking at Chanyeol. Somehow, they felt like they were on more equal footing this time. “And even if a sorcerer strong enough could be found— it is still an irrevocable death sentence. Look at me.”

Every one of them had already been looking at Jaehwan, but that wasn’t what he’d meant. He meant for them to see, see how he’d chipped away. And they did, taking in his gaunt features, skin clinging to bone. The brittle, pale way he resembled driftwood, washed up on a beach shore and bleached by the sun. 

After a moment of silence, all of them taking in Jaehwan’s meaning, Chanyeol asked, “Is there nothing you can do to rid yourself of it?”

Jaehwan shook his head. “The nature of a counter spell is that it must neutralize all the pieces that went into the original spell— there’s no way to neutralize living blood, because the energy of it regenerates.”

“There is death,” Kyungsoo said, the suggestion seeming to ring through the room like a shout. “When the vessel of a spell is destroyed, the spell dies. It works with charms. I can’t imagine it wouldn’t work with this.”

It was an obvious statement, but a harsh one. Of course Kyungsoo would be the one to say it. Hongbin didn’t think he was imagining the sudden stiffness in Hakyeon’s shoulders, the glance he shot at Chanyeol.

“Yes,” Jaehwan said slowly, carefully. “I will be free in death, for all the good it will do me.” He bodily turned towards Sanghyuk, who appeared stricken. Surely it couldn’t be that much of a surprise. But then, perhaps Sanghyuk had honestly believed he’d be able to save Jaehwan. Hongbin got the impression vampires like these rarely didn’t get their way. But life would always have the capacity for cruelty, no matter who it was dealing with. Jaehwan whispered to him, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t accept this,” Sanghyuk replied, predictably. He brought their interlaced hands into his lap, pressing Jaehwan’s to his body. “There must be something that can be done.”

“There is turning.” Hongbin’s heart skipped a beat in dread at the suggestion, head whipping up to stare incredulously at Hakyeon. Taekwoon too was wide-eyed as he gawked at his maker. Almost as if to appease Taekwoon, Hakyeon added softly, “As a last resort, of course.”

“No,” Jaehwan said, a little hoarsely. Sanghyuk made a soft noise, gripping Jaehwan’s hand nearer, and Jaehwan shook his head and pulled his hand back to his own lap. He curled into himself a little, as if bearing down to face a storm. “No, I don’t— I know that when a sorcerer is turned, their magic dies with them. I can’t live that way. It would— break me. I can’t.” His voice cracked a little. “I can’t. It’s a piece of me.”

“So you’d rather die for true than live without your abilities,” Kyungsoo asked. When laid out so starkly like that, the decision seemed a little ludicrous, but it wasn’t Hongbin’s decision to make. Jaehwan nodded in reply. “Then you’ve made your choice. What is ours?” Kyungsoo aimed the last question at the vampire sitting at the head of the table.

Chanyeol didn’t immediately reply, appearing to ruminate on the matter, fingers pressed to his mouth, brow creased. It was a lot to take in, but Hongbin wished he’d hurry up— he felt stretched taut, the fear of their unknown fates ready to snap him into pieces. It was strange and terrifying to be in a room of creatures that had no qualms about killing, either morally or legally. There was a sort of— murder was difficult, even if their human laws hadn’t forbidden it. Legality provided a consequence, but morality was usually enough of a barrier. 

That was absent in this room, completely and utterly, and it was almost overwhelming to be faced with a being that could so easily do them harm, and really, had no reason to abstain. 

Chanyeol’s hand lowered from over his mouth, slow, coming down to rest on the table. His voice was just as paced and deliberate as his movement. “I would like you to give us the ingredients of the spell— as well as the incantation used, the set up. Any detail you can remember.” He addressed his words solely to Jaehwan, eyes burning. “While you are most likely correct and this can not, and perhaps should not, be replicated, the future is a difficult thing to predict. Will you do this for us?”

“Yes,” Jaehwan said immediately. 

Chanyeol hummed— it sounded approving. Hongbin didn’t want to hope. “For Sanghyuk’s sake, and since you are dying and thus the threat you pose is soon to be gone, I think that is where we can leave things with you. So long as you understand that you can tell no one else of this, any of it. As your master, Sanghyuk will pay for it if you do. And that is a punishment I would not relish enforcing,” Chanyeol said, as if he truly meant it. He looked at Sanghyuk and added softly, “I expect you to keep him in line.”

Sanghyuk nodded, swallowing audibly. 

The hand Chanyeol had resting on the table came up and waved vaguely at them. “You are free to go, then. Behave,” Chanyeol said with a raised eyebrow that Hongbin supposed was meant to be stern, but Hongbin couldn’t feel anything but relief. It rushed through him, sweet and cool. 

Jaehwan gave a sort of sniffle, and Sanghyuk put his hand on his back comfortingly. There was the sound of rustling, gentle movement as everyone pulled their feet under them, clothing sliding against skin, chair legs rubbing on the stone floor, as the group prepared to stand and leave. 

“Not you,” Chanyeol said silkily, and it cut through the murmur of noise sharply, making everyone fall still. Hongbin realized Chanyeol was looking at him, and he froze, poised on the edge of his chair. Chanyeol himself hadn’t moved at all. “You were Taekwoon’s hunting partner.”

This wasn’t good, this was dangerous. Hongbin’s heart began to pound anew. “I was,” he said quickly, because he couldn’t lie about it. “I’m not a hunter anymore.”

Chanyeol made a thoughtful noise. “And how long have you three known each other?”

Taekwoon, who’d stilled in the midst of pushing his chair back, sort of settled back into his seat so he could lean forward. “Jaehwan and I— since we were very small,” he said strongly in his sweet voice, and Chanyeol shifted to give him his attention. “Hongbin since he was a child.”

“When did this spell incident occur?” Chanyeol asked him.

“Two years ago.” Taekwoon’s frantic gaze met Hongbin’s.

Chanyeol addressed Hongbin once more as he asked, “Were you there the night it happened?”

Even though Chanyeol hadn’t turned on his glamour again, he was frightening in a renewed way. Hongbin opened his mouth, closed it as he realized he couldn’t lie, but the truth wasn’t the right answer. Taekwoon and Jaehwan shared a grim look.

The silence drew out, and as it did, Chanyeol was clearly thinking, gauging, judging. Taekwoon leaned forward further, elbows on the table, as if trying to distract Chanyeol from Hongbin’s prescence. “He wouldn’t tell anyone about this,” he said. “Not when it could mean exposure for Jaehwan. He’s unlicensed.”

Chanyeol didn’t look at him, was clearly focused on his own thoughts as he said, “And what about the imminent future after Jaehwan is dead.”

“I’m a vampire now,” Taekwoon pointed out, and Hongbin found himself nodding along dazedly. He couldn’t speak, his brain was a snowy television. Static and fog. “The spell could be used against me. He wouldn’t.”

“Perhaps not,” Chanyeol conceded, “but the future is a cruel thing, and sometimes things change. More than that, without a vampire to speak for him, he is vulnerable. A time could come where he is persuaded to talk, even if he didn’t wish to.”

Hakyeon put his hand on Taekwoon’s shoulder gently, soothing. There was no one to soothe Hongbin. The thought almost made him laugh hysterically. “I can say that— we will watch over him,” Hakyeon said quietly. “We will keep him safe.”

Hongbin thought that sounded like a threat rather than a benign promise. And it didn’t matter anyway, Chanyeol had raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Every minute for the rest of his life? Human lifespans may be short, Hakyeon, but a lot can happen in a couple of decades. An unclaimed ex-hunter, with knowledge of a sunlight spell is— a vulnerability. I think even you can see that.”

Taekwoon shook Hakyeon’s hand off, harshly saying, “I’m an ex-hunter with knowledge of a sunlight spell. I was there too, that night.”

“That is a fact none of us have forgotten,” Kyungsoo said pointedly. He’d fallen quiet, made himself small in the space beside Hakyeon. Listening, watching, waiting, a spider in his own right. 

“Also, you’re a vampire, and your maker has not released you,” Chanyeol added on. “You are not a loose canon.”

Hongbin didn’t think he was a loose canon. He was just a human. A painfully powerless one.

“So what do you suggest,” Hakyeon asked thinly, and Hongbin shouldn’t have been surprised this conversation was just— going on without him. It might have been his future, but his say in it didn’t matter.

“Turning is an option,” Chanyeol mused with such a casualness it was almost insulting. Hongbin was already shaking his head, panic clawing up his throat. “Another option would be finding a vampire patron to claim him. Wonshik seemed like he’d be amenable to the idea. And I also wouldn’t be opposed.”

A leash. A leash or death. “No,” Hongbin said hoarsely. “No no no.” He shoved his chair back sharply and got to his feet, chest heaving. 

Softly, not unkindly, Chanyeol murmured, “Running would be foolish.”

“I’m not going to be one of you,” Hongbin said, rather loudly. His ears were ringing. “And I’m not going to be owned.” Chanyeol was clearly unmoved, and Hongbin tried to bring his voice back to a normal volume, to sound calm when everything in him was writhing. “My answer is no.”

“It wasn’t a question,” Chanyeol said, and the quiet was split with the sound of another chair being shoved back— Taekwoon, getting to his feet, hands on the table. 

Immediately, Hakyeon grabbed Taekwoon’s arm, yanking at him. “Don’t be stupid,” Hakyeon hissed, and Taekwoon looked down at him, betrayal written in clear lines over his features. He didn’t sit back down. Hakyeon’s lips pursed, and he kept his hand on Taekwoon’s arm but whipped around to look at Chanyeol and said, “Chanyeol. Please.”

Somewhere along the line, Jaehwan had also put his hands on the table, and he seemed unsure if he too should stand. As they all stared one another down in a frozen tableu, Kyungsoo’s gaze roved around— flickering over Jaehwan, then Hongbin. There was nothing Hongbin could say, but he met Kyungsoo’s gaze, trying to convey— all the things that were too shaky to be put down in ink just yet. Kyungsoo’s eyes narrowed, and then he cleared his throat, reaching over and placing his hand sweetly on Chanyeol’s forearm. “Perhaps,” Kyungsoo said delicately, “we could glamour his memories of the spell away? The specifics.”

The little bubble of hope that had begun to form popped. “I don’t want to be glamoured either,” Hongbin said quickly, and was ignored.

“That wouldn’t protect him,” Chanyeol murmured, clearly only for Kyungsoo.

“It would protect _us_ ,” Kyungsoo countered. “And it seems the least invasive option.” 

Hongbin felt the rope inside him fraying, coming undone. “I don’t _want it_ ,” he said shrilly, and Jaehwan jumped a little.

“You won't remember it happening,” Kyungsoo snapped. He and Chanyeol had leaned their heads together, as if they were conspiring children, and now Kyungsoo pulled back to glare at Hongbin. “This is a better option than the other two, is it not? You’re welcome.”

He was right. But that didn’t mean Hongbin liked it. “Fuck you,” he spat in reply.

Chanyeol smiled, and it didn’t reassure Hongbin any more than seeing shark teeth would have. “He has spirit, I’ll give him that,” he said. “If we were to do this— has he had memories glamoured away before?”

“No,” Hakyeon said. He’d clearly latched onto this idea— a nice mediation between his old alliances and his new baby. “No, I’ve been in his head. He’s— intact.”

That was one word for it.

“Does that matter?” Jaehwan asked in a small voice. Good question. 

It was Sanghyuk who answered, soft and gentle, without meeting Jaehwan’s eyes. “Glamouring memories away can leave weak spots in the mind. Like a sweater that’s been washed too much. Places begin to thin, become vulnerable to tears. It is best to not glamour memories away too often.” 

That did not sound good. Hongbin wasn’t sure if prior existing conditions were a thing in regards to this, but he felt like his brain was tender enough as it was. “I do not want my grey matter vulnerable to tears,” Hongbin said, and then he rounded on Chanyeol. “And I do not want you in my head anyway.”

“Would you rather be turned?” Kyungsoo asked. “Or claimed?”

“No,” Hongbin said, “but—”

“Do you have any other suggestions?” Chanyeol asked.

Hongbin was being tag teamed by a pair of ancient vampires, and in the face of it he floundered. He knew, deep down, they weren’t going to just let him walk out of here without taking precautions as they saw fit no matter what he said, but he wanted to say it all the same. “No—”

“Then it is settled.” Chanyeol stood, and everyone else scrambled to do the same. Hakyeon looked as if he was going to try to argue for Hongbin, possibly just for the pretense of it, but Chanyeol simply said, “Don’t bother. You know this must be done. Take your newest child out of here.” He looked to Sanghyuk. “You and Jaehwan should leave too.”

Sanghyuk made to move, but Jaehwan clearly wavered. He was crackling with energy, thin and brittle but clearly powerful as a thunderbolt. “Hongbin is my friend,” he said.

“I understand that,” Chanyeok murmured, putting forth a facsimile of emotion that Hongbin supposed was meant to convince them he was capable of empathy. “But you must understand our perspective as well. I can promise he will not be hurt. And when he walks out of here, he will not even remember this was done to him at all. there will be no trauma.”

“Well,” Hongbin said sharply, “that’s super comforting.” It didn’t matter what he said though— the palpability of magic around Jaehwan had faded. He would know, of course, that all he could do was intimidate. Any fight he put up would cause damage, yes, but ultimately, Jaehwan would burn out quickly, and the vampires would win. It wasn’t worth it.

And it wasn’t like they were going to kill Hongbin. Just alter him a bit. So what did it matter. What did Hongbin matter.

“Come,” Hakyeon whispered, ushering Taekwoon to the door while Jaehwan wavered. Taekwoon avoided Hongbin’s eyes, and if Hongbin was being fair, he would have taken heart that Taekwoon looked miserable. But Hongbin was sick of being fair. Finally, Sanghyuk gently grabbed Jaehwan’s elbow, tugging at him gently, and Jaehwan allowed himself to be pulled along, head drooping.

“Traitor,” Hongbin hissed as he walked by, and Jaehwan flinched. Hongbin’s eyes burned, tears thick and threatening to fall. “Fucking traitors—”

Hakyeon pushed one of the doors open, revealing a handful of curious people who’d been waiting outside the door, despite the apparent futility of eavesdropping. They all quickly scurried back as Hakyeon propelled Taekwoon forward, through the crowd. Sanghyuk followed them, pulling Jaehwan along. Jaehwan cast one last look back at Hongbin, regret and worry heavy in his gaze, before disappearing amidst the crowd of people. Worry or no, he’d just left Hongbin to the wolves. After Hongbin had come here, put himself in danger, for him.

Anger spiked through Hongbin, warm and suffocating. He should have known. He’d always be on his own in the end.

Around the doorframe came Wonshik, peering into the room, curious. “Close the door,” Chanyeol ordered, but by that point Wonshik had seen Hongbin’s tears, and noted that he wasn’t moving to leave.

“Uh?” Wonshik said, making a sort of half-assed gesture in Hongbin’s general direction. Hongbin blinked quickly, to try and chase the tears away, but it just made them roll down his cheeks. They were very warm. 

“The human needs to be glamoured,” Chanyeol said tiredly. “Close the door.”

Wonshik just stared. “What?”

“Close. The. Door. Wonshik,” Kyungsoo grit out. His fangs were out a little. Hongbin wondered if he was going to be fed on.

Wonshik blinked, eyes skimming over Hongbin, and then he decidedly came into the room and closed the door behind himself, right in Jongdae’s gawking face.

Chanyeol turned to Kyungsoo. “Why is your side of the family so disobedient?”

“It’s Hakyeon’s doing,” Kyungsoo muttered, and Wonshik was not at all deterred. He strode right up to Hongbin, movements sure.

“Hongbin?” Wonshik asked. His hands came up, cupping Hongbin’s face softly for the briefest of seconds before Hongbin slapped his hands away. The sound of their skin hitting rang in the room. 

“Fuck you too,” Hongbin whispered, new tears falling. 

Wonshik didn’t appear angry over the outburst. If it could be called that. He mostly looked confused, and he turned away from Hongbin to address the other two vampires. “Why are you glamouring him?” he asked. “He hasn’t done anything.”

Chanyeol heaved a heavy sigh, rubbing at his temple. “He has knowledge of the sunlight spell, and it needs to be wiped.” It was— not funny, but interesting, the shift in Chanyeol’s demeanor now that he was dealing with Wonshik.

Maybe Wonshik was even more of a menace than Hakyeon. Wasn’t that an idea.

Wonshik shook his head, seemingly in disbelief. “Hongbin— Hongbin is—” He broke off to glance back at Hongbin, as if trying to decide what Hongbin was. Hongbin held off from giving him the finger, though Wonshik could probably sense the desire there anyway. “He is stubborn,” Wonshik finally settled on. “And he’d never do anything that could hurt Jaehwan or Taekwoon. They’re more tightly knit than I think you realize—”

“We have already been through this with the others,” Kyungsoo snapped, cutting Wonshik off sharply. Shears tearing into a flower stem. “You think they did not speak for him?” Wonshik just looked confused. 

“Considering he is unclaimed and an ex-hunter to boot— this is mild, Wonshik, and you know it,” Chanyeol said, much more gently. “He would have fared far worse if he’d had the bad luck of being found out in another Area.”

Wonshik blanched a little at that, but he still softly said, “That doesn’t mean he deserves this.”

Hongbin snapped, sick of this white knight routine. He wasn’t sure what Wonsik was playing at, but he was tired of being yanked one way and then another. “Feeling a little latent guilt over what you said to me last night?” Hongbin asked, aiming to be as sharp as Kyungsoo had been, but his voice quavered with tears a little. 

“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” Wonshik immediately replied, and it sounded as if he was gearing up to make a fucking _apology_ , and Hongbin didn’t want it.

“No, but you said it anyway,” Hongbin said roughly, tears falling in earnest down his face, catching on his lips. “And if there’s anything Hakyeon, or you, or these fucking relics from five-hundred B.C. have taught me, it’s that humans shouldn’t trust vampires. So I guess we’re even.” He wiped impatiently at his cheeks, as if he could erase the emotions if he took away the evidence.

Wonshik’s droopy eyes were big and guileless in his face, and he seemed legitimately saddened by Hongbin’s words. And all it did was make Hongbin angrier. Fucking Wonshik, here being a not-completely-shit vampire. Hongbin hated him because he made it difficult to hate him. 

Worse, he looked like he was going to say something _nice_ to Hongbin in response to the snark, and Hongbin didn’t have it in him to deal with it. He was one wrong word away from just screaming hysterically like a busty blonde in a horror film.

Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one at the end of his tether, and Wonshik took too long to sort his thoughts out. “Can we get on with this?” Kyungsoo snapped impatiently. “I have other shit to do.” Hongbin didn’t appreciate Kyungsoo’s callousness, the arm twisting he was currently partaking in, but even through his swell of dislike Hongbin could see similarities between himself and the tiny vampire. Were the circumstances different, he might have even appreciated them. 

“Yes,” Chanyeol said, stepping forward and putting his hand on Wonshik’s shoulder in a move that was paternal and strange because of the fact that they looked to be of a similar age. The corners of Wonshik’s mouth tightened unhappily, and Chanyeol turned them both to face Hongbin squarely. “Would, perhaps, you prefer it if Wonshik glamoured you, since you seem more familiar with him?”

Hongbin’s stomach flip flopped unpleasantly, warmth coming to his cheeks. Wonshik had stuttered into that vampire stillness, but it felt more stilted than usual, somehow. His face gave nothing away. “What the fuck makes you think I’d want that,” Hongbin asked loudly.

“Do you?” Chanyeol said simply. 

Hongbin swallowed, biting his bottom lip as he thought about it, about how Chanyeol seemed fair enough, but Hongbin didn’t know him. He couldn’t be sure Chanyeol, or Kyungsoo, wouldn’t take advantage, wouldn’t erase things they shouldn’t. Or worse, wouldn’t tinker with Hongbin’s— Hongbin-ness. He’d seen that television special on humans that had been, for all intents and purposes, reprogrammed by a vamp. He didn't want to walk out of here a brainwashed vampire groupie.

“Yes,” Hongbin spat out. Wonshik’s eyes widened, his small mouth dropping open a little in surprise. “I’d prefer it be Wonshik.”

Hongbin looked at the floor so he wouldn’t have to see the— the smugness on Wonshik’s face, and so none of the vampires would see the humiliation and despair on his. Tears welled up again, flowing out as he blinked at the marble beneath their feet, the lump in his throat almost painful. He really didn’t want this. It wasn’t even that he was necessarily attached to the memories— but they were his and he didn’t like not knowing who he would be without them.

Wonshik stepped nearer, his sneaker-clad feet approaching Hongbin’s. “What did you want erased?” he asked softly in that low rasp of his. Hongbin shivered.

“His memories of the night Jaehwan first cast the spell,” Chanyeol said, and it was brusque, clinical. At least he hadn’t stepped closer too. “I don’t want there to be any chance of him possibly being able to aid in it being duplicated in the future. He can remember no details.”

Very quietly, Wonshik murmured, “Anything else?”

“Any other memories where Jaehwan has spoken to him of the spell, if you can find them,” Chanyeol said, and Hongbin couldn’t help the soft gasp of horror that escaped him, hands clenching over his stomach. There were— a lot, so many nights and small moments— conversations with Jaehwan or Taekwoon or both, hours researching, tending to Jaehwan— “That would include his memory of this meeting, I suppose. Replace it with a memory of waiting outside the door with you while the meeting was taking place.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t have any blank spots,” Wonshik said, voice flat. Numb. Unfeeling.

Hongbin didn’t look up. He didn’t trust them not to snag his eyes and begin. “I would rather not forget tonight nor the lessons I have learned in this room,” he said, sounding far too much like he was begging. 

“Well, I’m sure after you leave this room, Taekwoon and Jaehwan will be happy to reinform you that I am a cold, emotionless gavel of justice,” Chanyeol said tartly. “And perhaps it is better that you do not remember.”

“Better for you,” Hongbin whispered. He wondered if his loathing was carrying through.

Wonshik came forward; Hongbin watched as the tips of his sneakers settled just shy of Hongbin’s. Their bodies were close. Hongbin’s head was still hanging down, and if he’d leaned forward, he probably would have bumped Wonshik’s chest. “Look at me,” Wonshik murmured, and Hongbin shook his head minutely. This may be inevitable, his choice ripped away, but he didn’t have to cooperate. He could make this difficult. He wanted to make this difficult. Wonshik would hate it difficult. Strained, Wonshik said, “Hongbin, look at me.”

He wanted Wonshik to hurt. 

“Force me,” Hongbin said thickly. “Vampire.”

Far to his right, Kyungsoo huffed a sigh. Hongbin’s fists were clenched so hard his fingernails dug painfully into his palms. He knew the manhandling would come soon, pinning him back, a grip hard on his jaw, glamour thick as cotton wool suffocating him, no part of him his own anymore. Wonshik wanted to playact at being kind— a benevolent monster— Hongbin wasn’t going to let him. And he knew Wonshik would suffer for it. Let him hate himself, for having to do this. Hongbin wouldn’t remember this, but he would make sure Wonshik did. 

Wonshik shifted, a small flicker of movement, his hands uselessly fluttering about level with their midsections. He didn’t want to touch, not after Hongbin had slapped him away earlier. How sweet. Hongbin watched Wonshik’s hands come nearer and nearer to his face, making a cupping motion as they had before, but they stopped short of his jawline. They were warm, even not touching him. Hongbin could feel the heat of them.

“Hongbin,” Wonshik said, and Hongbin held himself still, as still as he could, so he wouldn’t accidentally make contact with Wonshik’s hands. “Please.” Wonshik gently, so gently, let his fingertips touch along Hongbin’s jaw, his damp cheeks. It was like butterflies had landed on his skin, so light and tender was the touch. “Please.”

Damn him. _Damn him_. 

Hongbin’s face crumpled, and he let out a small, stupid, pitiful noise. “I don’t want this,” he gasped, but he raised his head, new tears and all, and found Wonshik’s eyes. He expected to be immediately overcome with glamour, but he found Wonshik’s eyes were just— eyes. Warm and brown and long-lashed. 

Wonshik’s thumbs swiped over his cheeks, smudging at the wetness of Hongbin’s tears. “I know,” Wonshik murmured, staring so hard into Hongbin’s eyes it felt like— Hongbin didn't know what it felt like. A lot. Like he was losing themselves in them. No one could stare quite like a vampire, and Hongbin kept blinking, because of the tears. He couldn’t seem to stop them. The warmth of Wonshik’s hands was spreading. “Think of that night, the night the spell happened. Let me have it.”

Hongbin tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, sniffling. Even if he’d wanted to disobey, he couldn’t— his brain brought it right to the front of his mind, the blood, the fear, the smell—

Taekwoon had cried, but Hongbin hadn’t noticed that until after— along with so many other things. His knees had bruises the next day, from falling to the concrete floor beside Jaehwan, rolling him onto his side to try and keep him from drowning in his own blood— the way the dried lotus leaves had kept burning, Hongbin watched them turn to grey-white ash as Jaehwan heaved under Hongbin’s hands. The light of the Circle had pulsed like a heartbeat, and then gone out when Jaehwan fell still, and still the leaves burned.

White-grey, grey-white, incinerated into fine powder. Hongbin had to vacuum the closet, so his mother wouldn’t know. _It’ll get rid of him_ , Jaehwan had said, grinning, burning the little bundle under his mother’s boyfriend’s dress slacks. _Don’t worry_.

Those hands, those hands— clapped over a bloody mouth, covered in soot, or dusty with dirt, Jaehwan opening them to show a caterpillar made of glass—

 _Why are you crying?_ Taekwoon asked, looming high above Hongbin, his face round and soft and haloed in the sun like an angel. A leather jacket three sizes too big hung around his narrow shoulders. _Come with me, my friend can help. Just promise not to tell._

 _Take me away_. The dirt was fine and powdery underneath him, sticking to his sweating palms and staining his school uniform. Once it was on him, he never could wash it off. It clung to everything, a constant reminder, of what he was, what he’d lost. Dirt, fine dirt, pale and a little red, dirt, in a mound, dark and rich and freshly turned beside a headstone. Dirt crumbling into grassy slopes, blue sky, his mother smiling under a sunhat and his father’s hand pulling him along. Bloody hands. No. Hongbin’s hands were small and clean as they pushed at sand, burying his father’s feet playfully. Beige grittiness, darkening as the ocean lapped over it. Endless sky, sand turned to uneven stones, taupe and rough, an ocean Hongbin had never seen before. Night came— night— Hakyeon in a black veil— his mother’s wedding portrait in his parent’s room— Sanghyuk grey in death at the bottom of a grave— his father in a casket— 

The floor was cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. rather than continuing to list our bajillions of sns accounts on every other chapter, i made both rara and i [a listography page](https://listography.com/inkinbrushes). it has our twitters, tumblrs, ccs, etc etc. it also has a nice bonus list of fics we want to write in the future, mostly just to torment ourselves.   
>  2\. im anticipating all chapters are prolly going to be like 15 to 20k from here on out so updates will be sporadic. but iM GoInG To FiNSih ThIS i SwEAr. i had a small Crisis of Self last month re. writing and esp this fic but i'm feeling a bit better about it now ♥


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of a warning on this chapter! Given fairly recent events I feel like I should warn that there's some suicide mentions in this chapter ;; there's no details given and it was a character we've never seen, but I thought I should throw it out there just in case. I wrote that section months ago, and it's been a part of the story for a long time, and I thought about changing it but i think it would make some aspects of the story make less sense, so. If you're worried about being triggered and want more specifics before you read feel free to DM me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/vixxoween) ♥ Take care of yourselves.

Taekwoon’s footsteps were very quiet as he paced, if it could be called pacing. Three steps one way, three steps the other, so he never strayed far from Hakyeon’s side. 

It grated on Sanghyuk, so did Hakyeon’s worried gaze following Taekwoon, but he said nothing of it. 

Beside Sanghyuk, Jaehwan was pale, leaning back against the wall of the hallway they’d stalled in. Hakyeon had made a half-hearted attempt to usher them all to one of the parlours, but Taekwoon was too agitated, and Jaehwan seemed to want to stay in view of the closed conference room doors.

Jongdae had a lot of questions, as Jongdae always would, but the sharp look Hakyeon had sent him had made him and the others scamper deeper into the house. A small blessing. 

Sanghyuk was tall, and he often felt it, but in this house, he always felt very small. 

Jaehwan sniffled, very quietly, and Sanghyuk shifted, a statue coming to life. He touched Jaehwan’s upper arm lightly, and Jaehwan looked up at him, giving him a closed-lipped smile that was more like a grimace. His eyes glimmered under the lights. Sanghyuk wanted to comfort him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He was still reeling from all the information he’d been given tonight. Reeling and grieving. 

There was a rattling, the door knob of the conference room turning, and all of them jolted into motion, turning, moving. The door swung open and Chanyeol strode out of the conference room, spine straight and the set of his body regal, for all that he was wearing jeans. 

When he saw them approaching, he turned and addressed Jaehwan formally in a way that was jarring for the situation. He was too clinical, in contrast to their high emotions. “Thank you again for responding so swiftly to the summons,” Chanyeol said, and Jaehwan pulled up to a stop in front of him, though he clearly wanted to get around him and see how Hongbin was. Taekwoon and Hakyeon, apparently extraneous and thus ignored, did move past Chanyeol with a swiftness, with Taekwoon darting into the conference room without so much as a nod to his King. “I’m glad this could end so civilly. We’ll be hearing from you soon, in regards to the details you promised?”

“Yes,” Jaehwan said, a little breathless, and Sanghyuk pressed his hand to Jaehwan’s lower back to steady him. He could hear murmurings coming from the conference room, Hakyeon’s melodic tone, though the angle was wrong and he couldn’t see into the room itself. “I’ll send them through Hakyeon, if that is alright?”

Chanyeol’s eyes flickered to Sanghyuk for a moment, amusement tipping one corner of his mouth up. It was clear Jaehwan was thinking that he’d be well pleased to never see Chanyeol again. That was most likely not in the cards, as they say, but Chanyeol was gracious enough to not push the point. “I’ll bid you goodnight then,” was all Chanyeol said. He nodded to Sanghyuk, and his eyes flickered back to the open conference room door as he turned and strode away down to the opposite hallway.

Jaehwan stuttered, like a machine malfunctioning. It was as if, for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he should step forward, but then he did, swiftly scampering away from Sanghyuk’s side and towards the open conference room door. Sanghyuk followed, a bit slower. He felt empathy for Hongbin’s situation, but he was primarily invested in Hongbin because Jaehwan was. And he knew Kyungsoo and Chanyeol could be hard-asses, but they were old and fair. And Wonshik— Wonshik seemed invested enough in Hongbin. Sanghyuk trusted that between the three of them, Hongbin would have come to no real harm.

In the conference room, there were so many people clumped together that Sanghyuk couldn’t see Hongbin at first. Then he realized Hongbin was on the floor, being held up in a moderate sitting position by Wonshik, who was kneeling beside him. Taekwoon was there too, brushing Hongbin’s hair off his forehead. Hongbin blinked at him blankly, eyes glassy. 

“He’s alright,” Hakyeon was saying, his hand placed on Taekwoon’s head comfortingly. “He’ll just be out of it for a while.”

“He’s been glamoured before,” Jaehwan said, voice a little high. “It’s never left him— catatonic.” Sanghyuk made his way to him, gently taking hold of Jaehwan’s hand and squeezing reassuringly. Jaehwan glanced at him, his big brown eyes full of fear and concern. 

“He’s never been glamoured like this before,” Wonshik said, his voice so low it felt like it was dragging. He held Hongbin propped up against him, in his arms, against his chest. “I had to— turn him very far inwards, to do what was required. But he will resurface. It might just take some time.” He shifted, making a small, encouraging noise even though Hongbin was fairly unresponsive. “Up.”

Taekwoon got back to his feet, ready to help if need be, but Wonshik had it covered— he got his hands on Hongbin’s upper arms and hauled him easily to his feet. Hongbin stumbled, head lolling a little, but he blinked rapidly and then got his feet under himself to an acceptable degree. 

“Out that way,” Wonshik murmured into Hongbin’s ear gently, turning him towards the open door. Hongbin shuffled forward, Wonshik letting him go carefully. They all parted to let Hongbin pass, watch him weave and stumble a little. He was clearly very dazed, but he still muttered a curse when his shoulder bumped into the doorframe hard. 

“How long will he be so out of it?” Taekwoon asked. He leaned against Hakyeon, and Hakyeon twined their arms together, brow furrowed. Sanghyuk wasn’t sure how he felt about Taekwoon being so clingy, not when Hakyeon was— as invested, as he was. Invested in a way that Sanghyuk didn’t think Taekwoon quite reciprocated.

“A day, maybe two,” Wonshik said softly. His eyes were fixed on Hongbin, puttering across the marble of the entranceway. 

“Hongbin will hate that,” Jaehwan muttered. His bottom lip was red from where he’d been chewing on it agitatedly, indented from his teeth.

Wonshik didn’t hear him; he was already out of the room, hand on Hongbin’s elbow, helping to steady him as he walked. Sanghyuk gave Jaehwan’s hand another gentle squeeze. “He won’t remember it,” he reminded Jaehwan, and Jaehwan sighed, shoulders drooping. “I think you need to rest.”

Jaehwan gave him a weak smile. “You’re probably right,” he said, eyes tired. Sanghyuk could tell he was running on fumes. Jaehwan turned away from Sanghyuk to face Taekwoon, and after a pause, held his hand out. Taekwoon carefully took it, their skin equally pale. “Thank you, for being here.”

Taekwoon unhooked his arm from Hakyeon’s so that he could hold Jaehwan’s hand in both of his. Sanghyuk wondered if he’d begun to cultivate the ability to manipulate his body temperature. If he was making himself warm to balance out Jaehwan’s coldness. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Taekwoon murmured, and Jaehwan made a soft noise of denial. “I am sorry, you know.”

“I know, Taekwoon,” Jaehwan said softly. Behind Jaehwan, Kyungsoo was leaned up against the table, quietly watching them all, observing. Sanghyuk squeezed Jaehwan’s other hand, tugging a little, and Jaehwan pulled his hand free from Taekwoon’s. “I’ll see you soon?”

Taekwoon smiled, a tremulous little thing. His hands had vanished back inside his overlong sweater sleeves. “Yeah, I’ll want to know how Hongbin is doing— look after him? As best you can,” Taekwoon said, his smile twisting into a bit of a frown as he looked to the front door, where Hongbin and Wonshik were shuffling out. “I’d do more if I could but— I think we’re both a little stuck.”

Daylight, Sanghyuk remembered. Yes, Hongbin was the only one of them that could still go out in daylight. Sanghyuk wondered if the spell, the sunlight spell, was why Jaehwan couldn’t be exposed to true sunlight anymore. It most definitely was. But since Kyungsoo was in the room with them and clearly listening to every word, Sanghyuk couldn’t exactly ask Jaehwan about it now. 

“We’ll make sure he gets into bed safely,” Sanghyuk assured Taekwoon, who looked at him a bit warily, but he nodded. Sanghyuk addressed Hakyeon with his next words. “We’ll be home before dawn.”

“Yes,” Hakyeon said, very precisely, in a way that made Sanghyuk smile. He was so very happy, to have his maker back. He knew there would, of course, be trouble following on his heels from this trial business. But they’d handle it.

Sanghyuk walked, tugging Jaehwan with him gently. “Come,” he said softly, and Jaehwan mock-scowled at him, which just made Sanghyuk smile wider. 

By the time they made it out of the front door, Wonshik had managed to bundle Hongbin into the backseat. Sanghyuk was both surprised and not surprised, when Wonshik slid into the backseat alongside him and shut the door. “Guess that means you get shotgun again,” Sanghyuk murmured, walking with Jaehwan to the car and pulling the passenger door open for him. Jaehwan shivered when he sat down, the seat cold against him, and Sanghyuk closed him in quickly so he could get the car — and by proxy the heater — going.

The drive back was quiet and uneventful, which was probably for the best. Jaehwan pretty visibly wilted once they were out of the gate and back on the road, all his energy drained. Sanghyuk knew fear was a killer, and tonight, Jaehwan had been very afraid. First for himself, then for his friend.

Sanghyuk glanced in the rearview mirror. Every time they turned a corner, or hit a bump, Hongbin lurched in the backseat, like he was intoxicated. This was the quietest Sanghyuk had ever seen him, the most placid. Of course the only way to get him this way was to glamour him out of his mind. 

By the time they got to the humans’ home, Sanghyuk pulling the rattling little car into the driveway, Hongbin had tipped over against Wonshik’s side, and appeared to be dozing. Wonshik sat fairly stiffly, eyeing the top of Hongbin’s head as if he was a bomb that might explode. 

Jaehwan heaved a sigh as he stared out the window at their house. “Home,” he muttered. It was half fond, half sad. 

“Home,” Sanghyuk agreed. He put his hand on Jaehwan’s knee, patting lightly. “You were brave tonight.”

Jaehwan unbuckled his seatbelt, shooting Sanghyuk an unimpressed look even as his cheeks pinkened. “Shush, you,” he said. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Sanghyuk echoed that sentiment. He turned to look into the backseat. “You need help with Hongbin?”

“No,” Wonshik rumbled, already opening the backdoor. Hongbin flinched at the rush of cold air, though he didn’t wake. Wonshik, gingerly and almost clinically, grabbed Hongbin under the arms and hauled him efficiently out of the car. Hongbin made a garbled noise of confusion, but it woke him up enough that when Wonshik set him on his feet on the grass, he could moderately support his own weight. 

“I really don’t like how wobbly he seems,” Jaehwan muttered, eyes fixated on Hongbin as they followed him and Wonshik up onto the porch. Hongbin got a bit caught up on the stairs, using Wonshik’s arm for balance. But he wasn’t any more out of it than Sanghyuk expected. Wonshik might have not been expecting it— his face was very pinched, brow drawn down low. That might just have been because he was troubled about the whole situation. 

“You can think of it like he’s drunk,” Sanghyuk said, and felt Wonshik’s eyes heavy on him as he fished through the keys for the one to the front door. Once he got it open, he let Hongbin bumble in first. “In a lot of ways he is. He’s just drunk on glamour. And tomorrow he’ll be hung over. Then the day after, he’ll be fine.”

The house was dark— moonlight filtering in through the cracked blinds alongside the artificial glow from the porch lamp. Silver and gold glinted in Jaehwan’s hair. He stood at the center of the cramped living room, watching Wonshik and Hongbin fade into the darkness of the hallway. 

“What if he isn’t fine, though,” Jaehwan whispered, clearly trying to quiet enough so that Wonshik wouldn’t hear. It would be a fruitless effort— Wonshik might be down the hall, putting Hongbin to bed, but he’d be able to hear them speaking perfectly if he cared to listen.

Sanghyuk— maybe he shouldn’t, but he stepped in close and wrapped his arms around Jaehwan, pulling him against his chest. “If that happens,” he rumbled, as Jaehwan relaxed against him, embraced him back, “then we’ll handle it. But Wonshik is old, and he has glamoured humans in the past.” Sanghyuk pressed a kiss to the top of Jaehwan’s head. “Hongbin will be alright.”

Jaehwan huffed a little and turned his face upwards, pressing a kiss to the underside of Sanghyuk’s jaw, near his ear. The small, tender motion sent a sharp frisson of arousal through Sanghyuk. Arousal and fierce fondness. He held Jaehwan tighter, hand coming up to cup Jaehwan’s cheek so he could kiss him. Jaehwan squeaked, then made a smaller sort of pleased noise into Sanghyuk’s mouth. He was very cool to the touch, even his lips. 

Sanghyuk was not going to let him die. Not like this. They would figure something out.

“Beautiful darling,” Sanghyuk murmured, and it was stupid and sappy, and Jaehwan pulled away enough to wrinkle his nose, squishing his face into a playful scowl. Sanghyuk grinned, feeling both sad and pleased at the same time as he looked down at Jaehwan’s gaunt young face. 

Jaehwan dropped the frown, leaving an almost bemused expression on his face. “Thank you for speaking for me tonight,” he said, and it was almost shy. “Though you didn’t— what did you mean, when you said you claimed me?” Sanghyuk kept himself still, not reacting, and Jaehwan watched him carefully. “It sounded serious.” 

_It is_. “I think that is maybe a conversation better for a night when you aren’t so tired,” Sanghyuk said, and as if to punctuate it, Jaehwan yawned. “I said it to protect you. It doesn’t have to mean anything more. We’ll talk about it later.”

Jaehwan eyed him. “Alright,” he said slowly, and Sanghyuk pressed another kiss to his lips.

Sanghyuk heard Wonshik returning to them, the ever so faint brush of his shoes on the carpet, before Wonshik cleared his throat and Sanghyuk pulled away from Jaehwan. He looked at Wonshik, eyebrow raised in query.

“I’ve put Hongbin to bed,” Wonshik said, a bit stiffly. “I’d like to leave him a glass of water, for when he wakes up. And perhaps some pain medication, if you have any.”

“Oh,” Jaehwan said, a bit breathless. He took a step back, and Sanghyuk reluctantly released him. “Yeah we have— yeah. I’ll get them for you.” 

Jaehwan strode into the kitchen, turning the light on so it spilled bright and violent into the living room. Wonshik winced. He didn’t look— well. Sanghyuk went to him, squeezed his shoulder. “Wonshik,” he murmured.

The corners of Wonshik’s mouth tightened. “Not now,” he muttered. Sanghyuk stared at him levelly, and Wonshik gave a small sigh. “I’m fine. I’m just— I don’t like this. There’s a lot to think about.” More quietly, he added, “How would you feel, if you were made to glamour Jaehwan against his will.”

Sanghyuk paused to think on it, listening to the sounds of Jaehwan puttering around the kitchen. “Guilty,” he said. “Dirty, perhaps.” He gauged the tautness of Wonshik’s jaw, the furrow in his brow. “I didn’t realize Hongbin was your Jaehwan.” 

Wonshik blinked and looked to him, startled. “He isn’t,” he said. “That isn’t what I meant.” His lips pursed further, making his tiny mouth appear fairly miniscule. “Hongbin— he—” Wonshik laughed, just a small sound. “Life hasn’t been fair to him. But no, Sanghyuk. He isn’t my Jaehwan.” 

There was more, Sanghyuk could see it, but he knew Wonshik wouldn’t blurt his thoughts out, he’d ruminate for days or weeks before he decided to talk. If he talked at all. 

“Probably for the best,” Sanghyuk said, trying to lighten the mood when there was so much to be grim about. “His personality is so abrasive he’d probably chafe your dick.”

Wonshik glared at him, and thankfully Jaehwan returned then, holding a glass of water in one hand and presumably pills in a closed fist. “Thank you, Jaehwan,” Wonshik said, clipped, and took both the pills and the water from Jaehwan’s hands. 

Jaehwan nodded tentatively, and Wonshik left them alone once more. “Everything alright?” he asked Sanghyuk, that terrible concern back in his voice.

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk said. He held his arm out, and Jaehwan fit himself at his side, bony and small. Sanghyuk kissed his temple. “Yeah. It will be.”

——

Hakyeon tapped his foot against the stone flooring, impatiently wondering where the fuck Jongdae had run off to. He wanted to go home. He wanted to get Taekwoon home.

In the dim lighting of this little side room, Taekwoon looked very soft. Hakyeon hadn’t needed to say anything to him, to implicate it would be best that they didn’t speak overmuch until they left this place and were in private once more. He loved and trusted both Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, but he did have some secrets, even from them. Generally, they were secrets pertaining to his children. 

Currently, there was this whole claiming business— Sanghyuk had bitten Jaehwan and said the words, but Hakyeon wondered about how serious it truly was— if it had been completely a genuine act of bonding, or more of a calculated move. He couldn’t exactly voice that here. 

And then there was Taekwoon, who hadn’t been surprised by the revelation. Which meant that it had happened last night, and Taekwoon had known of it. There was no real reason Taekwoon couldn’t have been the one to claim Jaehwan, but it had been Sanghyuk who’d stepped in, stepped between them, taken Jaehwan. And while Hakyeon was— happy, in a way, for Sanghyuk, his heart ached for Taekwoon. Because he knew Jaehwan had meant— did mean, so much to him. 

Taekwoon stared at Hakyeon from where he was standing awkwardly by the silent washing machine, eyes searching. “Are you alright?” Taekwoon asked, very softly, and Hakyeon almost crumpled. 

“Yes, kitten,” Hakyeon said, smiling in a way that felt sad. Taekwoon shuffled, looking down as if embarrassed and scowling a little. “Why?”

“Just asking,” Taekwoon muttered down at his own hands, covered by his overlong sweater sleeves. “Stressful few days.” 

Yes, it had been. And it wasn’t going to let up just yet. “When I left,” Hakyeon said slowly, “I was under the hopeful impression things would settle down a little for you, while I was away.”

Taekwoon made a small noise— it was nearly a snort. “Life can never be calm when Jaehwan and Hongbin are involved,” he said, then he heaved a big sigh, shaking his head so his hair fell away from his eyes. “Will Hongbin be alright? I worry about him during the day.”

In three slow steps, Hakyeon made his way across the small room, so he could lean against the cool metal of the washing machine at Taekwoon’s side. He didn’t touch Taekwoon, just put himself close enough so that if Taekwoon chose to initiate contact, the proximity was there. “Hongbin will be fine,” Hakyeon reassured him, and genuinely believed the words. Being glamoured so intensely wasn’t exactly an enjoyable experience, but Hongbin wouldn’t come out of it any worse for the wear. And it was better than the alternatives he’d been given. “He really should sleep most of tomorrow. And he will be fuzzy but not— stupid. He won’t wake up and wander out into traffic.”

“I’m so reassured,” Taekwoon said flatly, and Hakyeon’s head whipped around so he could stare, stomach sinking at Taekwoon’s tone. But Taekwoon’s normally pouting mouth was drawn into a hint of a smile. 

“Kitten,” Hakyeon sighed, and Taekwoon huffed out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “For true, I’m not teasing you so you need not tease me.” Even as he said it, he felt his heart lighten. “Hongbin _will_ be alright. But I still feel the need to apologize.” Taekwoon tilted his head questioningly. The motion made his fringe fall over his eyes, and he squinted one shut, so his hair would not poke it. Hakyeon brushed the hair away, quickly, carefully, because Taekwoon couldn’t. “I feel like we’re constantly betraying their trust— and your trust.”

Taekwoon’s lips parted a little, and his eyes tracked Hakyeon’s hand as it fell back down to his side. Hakyeon wondered if he shouldn’t have touched him. “You don’t have to say sorry,” Taekwoon mumbled, still looking down. “It was out of your control.”

The Taekwoon that Hakyeon had first met, human and burning, would not have thought of it that way. Warmth swelled in Hakyeon’s chest as he regarded the top of Taekwoon’s head. He was so strong. He’d already come so far. 

Hakyeon was, suddenly, so very glad that Taekwoon was in his life. He’d resolved not to regret turning him, no matter what wrath and fury it brought upon his own shoulders. Seeing Taekwoon begin to soften, like a tree tentatively unfurling buds at the cusp of spring— Hakyeon wouldn’t change it. Taekwoon deserved to bloom. 

“Thank you,” Hakyeon said quietly, and Taekwoon blinked at him slowly, their faces surprisingly close. 

There was the whispers of footsteps, like gossamer over skin, and Hakyeon swiftly straightened and pulled back from Taekwoon, looking to the cracked door. He expected it to be Jongdae, but the silhouette of the vampire that pushed the door open fully was too slim in the shoulders.

“Oh, good, you’re still here,” Kyungsoo said, and he hit at the wall for the lightswitch. He squinted for a few seconds when he managed to turn the light on, flapping around them. “Why are you hiding in the laundry room?” 

Hakyeon blinked at the brightness, eyes stinging. “We’re not hiding, we’re waiting for Jongdae,” he said. Taekwoon, not subtly, nudged over a little, so he was half hiding behind Hakyeon. Through his sweater, his fingers curled in the sleeve of Hakyeon’s coat. “He’ll be driving us home.”

“Oh,” Kyungsoo said. Without looking, he nudged the door shut behind himself with his foot. “I wanted to speak to you.”

Hakyeon reached across his own body, curving his hand around his arm to gently brush his fingertips over Taekwoon’s. “Both of us?” he asked, hopeful that Kyungsoo would let Taekwoon go wait outside in the car, give his child a break. 

But Kyungsoo very decisively answered, “Yes.” Hakyeon fought not to sigh as Kyungsoo eyed Taekwoon, hiding behind him. “This pertains to both of you.”

Taekwoon made a small noise, a little grumble of unhappiness, and Hakyeon felt himself smile over it. Kyungsoo definitely heard, but he chose to ignore it as well as Hakyeon’s reaction.

“Well,” he said, clapping his hands together, “I know you two are a bit sulky, and I understand why, but Chanyeol and I were just being practical. Shall we leave it behind us, because it is done?”

Hakyeon’s smile lingered, though it grew a little rueful. Yes, his master was very good at practicality, at boxing these things up as if they were simple. Hakyeon hadn’t mastered it quite as well, but he did understand. “Yes,” Hakyeon answered, because he knew Taekwoon wasn’t going to.

“Excellent,” Kyungsoo said. “We can move on then.” It was very clear that Kyungsoo had already done just that. Tossed over his shoulder, nothing left worth mentioning. “All things considered, the trial went well— for the most part. And tonight everything got sorted with this whole— spell business. So, now, we must worry about what is next— opening night.”

Hakyeon fought not to groan aloud, or throw his hands up and scream. After everything that had happened, such a thing just felt— frivolous and small. Taekwoon made a very small, inquisitive noise. “This place is having a grand opening celebration,” Hakyeon muttered out of the corner of his mouth for Taekwoon’s benefit, and then spoke louder to Kyungsoo, “Do we really have to talk about this now?”

“I would have liked to have delayed it out of respect to your delicate sensibilities,” Kyungsoo snapped, “but considering it is happening in three nights— yes. We have to talk about it now.”

Three nights. So soon. Hakyeon had known, but it still felt like it had crept up on him. “I must admit I have been so busy with Taekwoon and— this other business, I have been rather negligent,” he mumbled, a bit indistinctly. It was the closest he’d get to telling Kyungsoo he’d fucked up, maybe a wee bit.

“You have,” Kyungsoo agreed, utterly unapologetic, “but we’ve been planning and have most everything sorted. Chanyeol’s bringing in his own catering service for us, which takes off a lot of the burden, and Jongdae and Jongin have been arranging most of the rest.”

Hakyeon could tell Kyungsoo was building up to something, and he didn’t need any more of this. “So, what would you have me do?” he asked.

Kyungsoo huffed, as if the question was foolish. “ _Be there_ ,” he said simply, “and act the part. There are many people attending— most of them important, either politically, or because they could very well turn into patrons, or because they’re our— new friends.” Hakyeon frowned, head tilting questioningly, and Kyungsoo continued, “Lim has already contacted Jongdae. She wants to view her— new assets.” 

Hakyeon’s stomach sank in dread. He didn’t want her anywhere near any of them. Hakyeon could handle her— but he wanted her and her venom away from those he loved. 

Kyungsoo was staring at him hard, gauging. “You can bet she will be looking for any and every chink in our armour. We cannot let her have one.”

Hakyeon nodded. He understood. Somehow, he hadn’t thought he’d be seeing Lim in such a short time after the trial, but it did make sense. Vampire politics being what they were, he really should have anticipated her attendance. The forewarning was definitely useful— Hakyeon would be ready for her.

“Also,” Kyungsoo said, and it was a bit more delicate, which was how Hakyeon knew he wasn’t going to like it, “Taekwoon must come as well.”

That would do it. “Kyungsoo—”

“There are already whispers, Hakyeon,” Kyungsoo cut him off roughly, hand sweeping out in a sharp gesture. “The trial might be over but people are still talking— they want to verify the existence of this mysterious child you committed a triple homicide for.”

“Technically, I only actually killed one of them,” Hakyeon pointed out, even though the true details didn’t matter. He’d gone on trial for all three. “And they should be able to take Chanyeol’s word on Taekwoon’s existence.”

“They should. But they won’t. Taekwoon will attend,” Kyungsoo said simply. He gave a one-shouldered shrug, as if this was easy. As if he wasn’t asking a baby vampire that had been a hunter in life to make nice at so many creatures he’d hated for so long. Taekwoon was getting better with it, but not every vampire coming would be— like them. “He doesn’t have to do anything except look pretty. In fact, it would probably be best if he spoke as little as possible.”

“He doesn’t have anything suitable to wear,” Hakyeon said tightly, a flimsy excuse if he’d ever heard one.

“And your bank account is empty? There isn’t a tailor in all the land?” Kyungsoo scoffed, giving Hakyeon an unimpressed look.

Annoyance was quickly turning to anger in Hakyeon. “I just don’t think—”

“I’ll go,” Taekwoon murmured, very softly from behind Hakyeon. He tugged at Hakyeon’s sleeve, forcing Hakyeon to turn around a little. His gaze met soft brown eyes. “It’s alright, Hakyeon. So long as I don’t— have to do anything.”

Kyungsoo’s mouth twisted wryly. “Honestly, lurking behind Hakyeon and peering around as you do will be perfectly suitable,” Kyungsoo said. It was very dry. “The people love an enigma, and a lot of them will be coming just to catch a glimpse of you.”

Hakyeon’s lips parted in vague indignation. “Did— in Vrienyre were you— are you using Taekwoon as a— a spectacle to lure people here and line your pockets—”

Kyungsoo stared at him flatly. “Yes,” he deadpanned, and Hakyeon spluttered. “Because of him — and you — I’m losing thirty percent of the profit on this place. Gone. In the fucking wind. So yes, I will ride out the waves this trial business has created and gain as much capital as I can out of it.” He crossed his arms, looking for all the world like a bitchy teenager. “I’d rather people come here with the intention to spend money, of course— but if they come wanting to gawk, I will let them in, and get them to throw money at me later.”

Hakyeon’s lips pursed unhappily, but he couldn’t exactly argue, all things considered.

“If I go— I want some of the money you make off me,” Taekwoon said, very seriously. “It only seems fair.”

Kyungsoo blinked, arms loosening from where they’d been tightly crossed, and then he threw his head back and laughed. He laughed, and laughed, until he was wiping blood from the corners of his eyes. Hakyeon side eyed Taekwoon, and found his little kitten still looked serene, which told Hakyeon he’d been joking in the first place. 

“Oh,” Kyungsoo said breathlessly, dragging watery blood across his face as he swiped at his cheeks, “I do wish you would leave with Chanyeol, after opening night is done. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’d also thrive in his household.” 

Hakyeon stiffened, and Taekwoon pressed his hand to Hakyeon’s lower back, as if he was trying to soothe him. Taekwoon made no reply, one way or another. Maybe he would do better, with Chanyeol, but for now, he wouldn’t want to leave Jaehwan, of course. 

Perhaps in the future, after Jaehwan was gone, Taekwoon could leave. But Hakyeon would face that potential loss when he got there. 

Seeing Hakyeon’s stillness, Kyungsoo waved at them vaguely. “I know, I know, you needn’t say it—”

The doorknob rattled and it was all the warning they got before the door swung open, Jongdae coming to rescue them at last.

“Fucking finally,” Hakyeon snapped, before Kyungsoo could think to try and continue his thought process. “What were you doing?”

Jongdae grinned, and Hakyeon knew he wasn’t going to get a serious answer even before Jongdae said, “I was taking a shit.” 

Hakyeon bit the tip of his tongue, hard, to keep from lashing out. Screaming would not help his mental state, no matter how much he might want to just shout incoherently at the ceiling.

There were hands on Hakyeon’s shoulders from behind then, heavy and broad. “Home?” Taekwoon asked quietly, and it was less of a request and more of a soothing reminder. 

Hakyeon met Taekwoon’s eyes over his shoulder. Taekwoon peered at him openly, something encouraging in his expression. “Yes,” Hakyeon whispered, the anger in his belly calming immediately. “We’ll go home.” Taekwoon gave him a very small smile, though it seemed a bit sad.

“Yes, go, shoo,” Kyungsoo said, throwing his hands up. “You have Jongin’s number, he can arrange the details with a tailor if you find you need use of a day-runner. If anything changes I’ll inform you.” He left the room briskly before Hakyeon could even reply, and Jongdae’s eyebrows raised, as if to point out Kyungsoo’s sharp mood.

Hakyeon glared at him. “Out,” he said, and Jongdae giggled, but he obligingly opened the slim door that went out into the garage and led the way down to the car Hakyeon’s suitcase was still sitting in. 

In the end, Hakyeon made the split-second decision to slide into the backseat beside Taekwoon, who looked surprised but obligingly made room for him. “What, I’m a chauffeur now?” Jongdae griped from his spot in the driver’s seat. 

“You should be so lucky,” Hakyeon snapped. The car rumbled down the driveway, the gate sliding smoothly out of the way. They couldn’t be driven directly to their door, obviously, given its location, but dropping them off down the hills and on the other side of the park would put them very near it. The less distance Hakyeon had to drag his case over, the better. 

Taekwoon had sort of pawed vaguely at his seatbelt, and then seemed to realize putting it on would be silly. The fact of the misstep seemed to embarrass him a little, so Hakyeon pretended he hadn’t noticed.

“So,” Jongdae said, drawing the word out as a lead-in. Were he not driving, Hakyeon would have brought his leg up and kicked the obnoxious bastard in the side of the head. But as it was all he could safely do was glare at him. And Jongdae couldn’t see it. “I don’t suppose either of you will tell me what happened in that top secret meeting?”

“No,” Hakyeon said. He really didn’t want Jongdae digging, he might turn up something Hakyeon would rather he didn’t know. Not that he didn’t trust Jongdae. He just didn’t need it. “Now learn to mind your own business or I’ll have Kyungsoo cut your salary.” 

Jongdae sniffed theatrically. They were out of the more upscale neighborhood now, travelling down the slim winding road that was flanked by young forest. The headlights were off, because why bother. Hakyeon stared out the window, at the silver landscape, when he felt a gentle nudge. It was Taekwoon, laying his head down on Hakyeon’s shoulder, curling in against the side of his body. 

Hakyeon froze, making a small, inquisitive noise. He didn’t miss the way Jongdae’s eyes flashed back to them in the rearview mirror. “You alright?” Taekwoon whispered, his hair tickling Hakyeon’s cheek. “You seem— angry.”

“Anyone would be angry having to deal with Jongdae,” Hakyeon said, but his gut twisted. There was so much more, of course there was, and he— he’d like to talk to Taekwoon about it, to vent, to lean back on him. But aside from the extra listening ears currently present, Hakyeon didn’t really want to burden Taekwoon. Hakyeon was the caregiver, the master, the responsible party. In reality, he should be asking Taekwoon if _he_ was alright.

When they got home. When they got home, he would. 

Taekwoon’s hand slid over, still drowned in his sleeve, and took Hakyeon’s hand and gave it a light squeeze even through the fabric. Hakyeon felt guilty immediately. These weren’t the roles they should be playing.

“I think this is where you wanted to be left,” Jongdae said, the car slowing, and Hakyeon jerked. He looked out the window, and saw the trees were thinning as they approached the more residential area of town. “Right?”

“Yes, this is fine,” Hakyeon said; the car went from steadily cruising to a dead stop, making Hakyeon lurch forward and Taekwoon slide right off him. Hakyeon muttered a curse under his breath in a language he was hopeful Taekwoon wouldn’t understand, and then roughly opened his door and climbed out. 

“Where’s my tip—” Jongdae shouted, and Hakyeon slammed the door on him. It felt childish but also satisfying.

As Taekwoon stepped out the door on the other side, Hakyeon went around to the back of the car, and from inside Jongdae popped the trunk obligingly. Hakyeon really wanted to leave the trunk wide open after he’d taken his small rolling case out, just so Jongdae would have to come out and close it himself, but after he’d removed his case Taekwoon was there closing the door for him. 

The car pulled off as soon as the trunk was closed, Jongdae turning it around and speeding back up the hill. “Come,” Hakyeon said, grabbing his case by the handle since he couldn’t roll it across the forest floor. There was a flash of something on Taekwoon’s face, perhaps— perhaps he’d been considering taking Hakyeon’s bag for him, and then realized how silly that was. Hakyeon might be smaller than him, but he was definitely stronger. Hakyeon smiled secretly, leading the way through the trees, face downturned. 

“Your shoes are getting very dirty,” Taekwoon said quietly from behind him. 

They were, the iciness on the forest floor turned a bit slushy, making the dirt damp and the leaves stick. “So are yours,” Hakyeon said idly. 

“I’m wearing thrift store combat boots,” Taekwoon said, “you’re wearing— I don’t know. Hongbin would know. But they look expensive.” 

Hakyeon stopped, so he could turn and look at Taekwoon directly as he said, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. Money— you never have to scrounge ever again. I’ll make sure of it.” Taekwoon blinked at him, pretty in the dappled light shining down from above. Hakyeon tore his eyes away, walking again. “And my shoes are Prada.”

“They’re nice,” Taekwoon whispered, from a ways behind him, clearly not meant for him to hear. 

Hakyeon would get Taekwoon a pair. He’d get him five. In the back of his mind he knew he spoiled his children, but that wasn’t going to make him stop. 

The trees were quiet, the occasional rustling of an animal all that disturbed the rest of their walk home. Living things would always make room for vampires. Taekwoon was right though— everything else left them in peace but the mud didn’t. He’d put Sanghyuk on cleaning duty. After the shenanigans he’d pulled while Hakyeon was away, he deserved it.

Their home was quieter than the forest above them. Hakyeon hadn’t really expected Wonshik and Sanghyuk would have returned already, but it did leave him very alone with Taekwoon. It was probably well enough, they did need to talk. At some point. 

Hakyeon sighed, toeing off his shoes just inside the door so he wouldn’t track mud everywhere, most notably over the white rug in his room. He left Taekwoon behind at the door, fumbling with his long laces to mimic Hakyeon in removing his shoes. His case kept bumping against his leg as he made his way down the stairs and into his bedroom. Once he was back in his bedroom, his own space, safe and sound, he went to stand just beyond the edge of the rug and dropped the case beside him, where it teetered but ultimately did not fall over. Then he closed his eyes and just— inhaled, the familiar scent of his room washing over him and soothing all the abrasions from the last few days like a balm. His socked toes wiggled on the plushness of the rug under his feet, and he just breathed. 

He sensed rather than heard Taekwoon approach. “You can come in,” Hakyeon murmured, and when no answer came, he opened his eyes and turned. Taekwoon was outside the room, peering around the doorframe timidly. “I still have all my clothes on, so. Nothing scary.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said it, but he liked to think he and Taekwoon could joke around a little. Hakyeon moved off before he could see Taekwoon’s reaction, going to his walk in closet and shedding his long winter coat. Vampires didn’t get cold, so he hadn’t needed it, but— he liked wearing them. The bottom had been spared from any dirt, though Hakyeon ended up needing to pick a few sprigs of dry leaves off the hem. After hanging it neatly back where it belonged, Hakyeon went back out and found Taekwoon standing much where Hakyeon had been standing moments before. He looked decidedly more lost.

Despite Hakyeon’s exhaustion, he made an effort to scrape something together, for Taekwoon. “Are you alright, kitten?” he asked, and made sure he was conveying he wasn’t just inquiring lightly about this moment. He meant— everything. 

Taekwoon seemed to understand him. But then, Taekwoon was rather hard to read, so perhaps it was just that Hakyeon was seeing what he wanted to see in Taekwoon’s face. “I’ve been better,” Taekwoon murmured. “But I’ve also definitely been worse.”

That didn’t give Hakyeon much to go on, and he sighed, going over to retrieve his case from the middle of the room, not a foot from Taekwoon’s legs. He didn’t look at Taekwoon’s face as he said, “I can’t imagine you were this calm when you found out about— Sanghyuk and Jaehwan—”

“No,” Taekwoon said, quietly but no less firm, cutting Hakyeon off. When Hakyeon chanced a glance at his face, Taekwoon didn’t seem angry. He didn’t seem anything at all. Hakyeon wasn’t sure if he would have prefered anger and screaming or not. “Last night— I was very upset.” Taekwoon looked down, eyes hidden behind his hair as he hunched over, and Hakyeon picked his case up and stepped away from him, to give him a moment to compose himself. Finally, Taekwoon said, “Jaehwan and I weren’t together. We never were. And even if Sanghyuk wasn’t a factor, Jaehwan and I— we never would have gotten together.”

Hakyeon left his case by his closet door, because he didn’t care enough to unpack right now. Instead, he walked back towards Taekwoon and then thought better of it, curving away to the side of his bed. “Because you’re a vampire now?” he asked, mulling over Taekwoon’s words, trying to parse through them to understand the emotions underneath. “Or is it just because he’s a boy?” He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Taekwoon’s uncomfortable body language, a tall man trying to make himself as small as possible, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. There was— Taekwoon’s scent was very heavy in the air, Hakyeon noticed, and as Hakyeon scooted back further so he was sitting more firmly on his bed, it got stronger.

Taekwoon tugged his sleeves further down his arms in a nervous gesture, stretching the shoulders of the garment thin. He shrugged in answer to Hakyeon’s questions, mouth pinched small. 

He was too far away, for how near his presence seemed. Hakyeon found himself frowning, and he looked down at his comforter, touching it softly, and noted his pillows were slightly out of order from the way he normally had them. As he patted one, it definitely— did not smell like Hakyeon. Not entirely. Hakyeon looked back Taekwoon, who seemed to be trying to become invisible. “Taekwoon, I’m sorry but— did— did you sleep in my bed while I was away?” he asked. 

Taekwoon swallowed nervously, eyes flickering up to peer at Hakyeon through his fringe. “Yes,” he said very softly, and Hakyeon blinked. Taekwoon shuffled tentatively over, standing beside the bed. He looked away from Hakyeon, down at the blankets. “I meant— I meant to wash it all, before you got home, but I wasn’t expecting to get called right out of the house after dusk.”

“But,” Hakyeon said, voice shaking without him meaning for it to, “why did you sleep in my bed.”

Taekwoon took a small breath through slightly parted lips, and then he seemed to steel himself as he sat down beside Hakyeon. There was still space between them, but as Taekwoon angled his body towards Hakyeon’s, their knees knocked. “I missed you,” Taekwoon said, and though his face was clamped down there was a raw honesty in his voice that may as well have left indents on Hakyeon’s heart. “I missed— you make me feel safe, and after the whole thing with Jaehwan and Sanghyuk— I just felt— your scent calmed me down.”

Hakyeon shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t, but he was imagining Taekwoon, bundled down in his bed, this bed, searching for comfort and finding it in the idea of Hakyeon. He’d bought a white bedspread because he knew it made his naked skin look golden and vibrant, was a lovely compliment. And Hakyeon was nothing if not vain. But even though Taekwoon was decidedly pale, Hakyeon’s brain was running with thoughts of how lovely he’d look here against the white, with his inky dark hair and pink smeared mouth—

He turned his brain away from those thoughts like a teenager trying to shift gears on a car. It was clunky and grating and not a smooth transition at all, but he had to. He had to. There was heat between his legs already. “Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, very controlled, tight. “Taekwoon. I want to be here for you, and I want— I want to help you as best I can, as your maker, but you’re making this very difficult for me.”

Perhaps he should have more control. If Taekwoon needed to rely on him to find peace and calm in a life that had decidedly shattered, he should have the strength to bear it. But this just felt unfair. Or perhaps cruel.

Taekwoon stared at him, and stared, clearly gauging Hakyeon just as Hakyeon tried to do to him. After a rather long silence, Taekwoon said, “I always felt like a monster for wanting Jaehwan the way that I did. Even now, I can’t— I still feel like if I touched him, it’d be filthy. Like I’m wrong for it, even though you say it isn’t wrong to like boys."

Hakyeon was unsure how this was a reply to what he’d said— unless Taekwoon meant that he just didn’t understand Hakyeon’s own ease of feelings, in regards to him. He replied automatically, voice numb. “It isn’t wrong, Taekwoon.”

Taekwoon had a small frown wrinkling his brow. “Do you promise?” he asked, and somehow, the question was loaded. Hakyeon could sense that, but he could not parse through the deeper implications.

More and more bewildered and surely showing it, Hakyeon said, “Yes.”

After searching Hakyeon’s face for a beat, Taekwoon’s eyes lowered to his lap, where his hands were tangled in his overlong sleeves. “When you say it,” he mumbled, “I can almost believe you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, and he mostly felt tired. Tired and sad and drained. But he had to do this. “I’m a vampire, and I’m attracted to men too, and it’s just— you’ll learn to accept it, in time.” Hakyeon realized belatedly how predatory that sounded, almost like a threat. Taekwoon was very close and very still, watching him intently. “I meant— I also had shame about it, to a degree, and with time you definitely learn to not regard yourself so harshly— not that— that I expect you to— with me—”

Hakyeon didn’t have time, was turned inwards so heavily and trying to think of the right words that he didn’t really have the ability to anticipate Taekwoon leaning in, Taekwoon nosing Hakyeon’s face towards him, Taekwoon pressing his mouth against Hakyeon’s. By the time he realized it was about to happen, it was happening. Taekwoon’s lips were cool and soft against his, and Hakyeon had to fight to not drag Taekwoon against him, because Taekwoon was clearly keeping the kiss sweet, gentle and sweet. It was their only point of contact, except the light brushing of their knees, but Hakyeon still felt it all through his body. 

Hakyeon didn’t move— he stayed still, because he didn’t trust his own body, and he didn’t know what Taekwoon was even trying to convey. Was this comfort too, Hakyeon wondered. Was this just Taekwoon seeking a kind word, a gentle touch, after so much hurt tonight and last. He’d had so little softness in his life.

Taekwoon pulled back, squinting one eye closed and muttering, “You talk too much." He paused, a moment that Hakyeon took to get indignant. “And you think too much as well.”

“Coming from you,” Hakyeon said weakly, glad for the fact that he didn’t need to breathe. Taekwoon tucked his face down shyly, still wringing his hands together, clearly nervous. If he was anxious, did it mean—

Hakyeon _did_ tend to overthink things, his brain always firing at a rapid pace. He didn’t think it was a fault. Especially not in a moment like this. But thinking wouldn’t get him his answers right now. 

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, voice trembling, and Taekwoon blinked innocently up at him, “I need— this is stupid but— was that a— friendly kiss?”

There’d been a playful gleam in Taekwoon’s eyes that winked out at Hakyeon’s words. “You’re hundreds of years old, and you need to ask me that question?” Taekwoon murmured, genuine bemusement crinkling his brow. 

“I do,” Hakyeon said, firm. The crease in Taekwoon’s brow deepened, and Hakyeon knew he was going to have to elaborate. It was just— so difficult. He felt like he was giving Taekwoon a weapon with which to batter him. “You lived one way for all your life,” Hakyeon said slowly, taking care to make sure the thoughts were cohesive, “and after everything that has happened in the last few months— the loss of your life, your way of thinking, and your loved ones— not just Jaehwan, who I know you’ve been pining over for years, but Hongbin too in many ways— I have been the one holding your hand to try and keep your head above water. I’ve been— your comfort and safety, in a time that has been very painful, I think, for you.” Hakyeon swallowed thickly, eyes prickling. His little kitten had been through so much. “Forgive me for worrying that you’ve got your signals crossed a bit and are just seeking softness, when you’ve been so hurt.”

Taekwoon’s lips parted slightly, eyes widening a little in realization. “It’s definitely not that,” he said softly. “I can’t—” He cut off impatiently with a huff, straightening and scooting away from Hakyeon just a little, putting some space between them. Hakyeon felt the loss as if Taekwoon had been laying against him, as opposed to simply being _close_. It made him stop breathing. Taekwoon stared across the room, eyes unfocused. “It may seem sudden to you,” he finally said, “but it isn’t. I just— I don’t like _talking_. Especially about things like— like this. So I haven’t been. But that doesn’t mean—” The corners of his mouth tightened, and he tried again. “Even before last night, hell, before I was killed—” He broke off again, running his hand through his hair agitatedly, and then he put his hands firmly on his thighs and looked at Hakyeon, clearly having made some kind of decision. His gaze was intent, a presence in itself, but his voice was small and barely there as he said, “You’re very pretty.”

Hakyeon’s felt those words like a punch. “Oh.” It was barely breathed out.

At his response, Taekwoon appeared to grow very bashful. His eyes lowered, lashes dark against the backdrop of his cheeks. “I don’t want— I can’t just—” He scowled, clearly frustrated with himself. Hakyeon had never known him to be so utterly wrong-footed, in a way that was almost endearing. “Could you— can you let me lead?”

Hakyeon barely registered the question, was too dazed to process it, and he found himself nodding before the words had soaked in. Taekwoon echoed the movement, nodding once, as if they’d struck a deal. 

Lead. Could Hakyeon let Taekwoon lead. “So,” Hakyeon said slowly as the realization dawned, “it wasn’t a friendly kiss.”

A breath of a laugh escaped Taekwoon. “No,” he said, shaking his head emphatically, clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t— plan it.”

“Maybe _you_ should think less,” Hakyeon said. He found his face splitting in a grin, happiness warming him quite suddenly. Taekwoon didn’t reciprocate the smile, but his eyes sparkled with something intense and so full of promise Hakyeon shivered. 

There was the very distinct sound of the front door opening and closing, the clang of it resonating through the house. Taekwoon’s face whipped to look at Hakyeon’s open bedroom door, and then quickly turned back, eyes gone wide and questioning.

“Go,” Hakyeon murmured, his smile softening, and Taekwoon was already on his feet and running to the living room, to ask whoever it was— Wonshik or Sanghyuk, or both, how Hongbin and Jaehwan were. Hakyeon watched him go fondly.

 _Maybe I should think less too_ , Hakyeon mused, and that was the only rational thing he could think before he was making a small noise of joy, grabbing one of his pillows and stuffing his face in it to muffle the sound. The pillow smelled like Taekwoon. Taekwoon, who thought he was pretty.

Footsteps clomped over the landing stairs. Hakyeon raised his head from the pillow. “Take your shoes off by the door!” he shrieked down the hall. 

He heard Wonshik, quite deliberately loudly, sigh heavily in response.

——

Hongbin had only been blackout drunk once in his life before. The morning after had felt eerily similar to now. But this time, he hadn’t even had the alcohol to make it worth it.

He groaned, and immediately regretted it when the sound seemed to reverberate around his skull. The sun was too bright, and he groggily pawed for the edge of his comforter, tugging it up over his head so he could have some dimness. It bared his feet to the nippy air but Hongbin‘s head hurt too much for him to give half a shit.

There was— he had difficulty, thinking, focusing on any one thought. In his mind, everything felt foggy, or like he was blindly reaching through a box of cotton wool and trying to fish out pieces of jello that were very determined to escape him. He had no attention span to even focus on the task of it.

“I’m dying,” he moaned, finding his tongue dry and unwieldy. “I’ve got the plague.” He wasn’t entirely sure where he’d contracted the plague, but he was sure he had it. His mother had always been useless, but he really wanted someone here, to fuss over him. Or just get him a glass of water. Damn Taekwoon for being dead. Damn Jaehwan for being stuck underground. Damn Wonshik for—

 _There’s water here_ , Hongbin remembered that rumbling voice saying through all the cotton, quiet and next to his ear, _for when you wake up_.

Hongbin peered out from under his blanket, squinting one of his eyes open even though it felt decidedly— crusty and dry, like a bad day at the beach. Lo and behold there was a full glass of water on his nightstand, the light shining through it as if it was an angel beckoning to him, and he made himself lean up on one elbow, so he could grab it and take several large gulps. It was cooling, and helped steady him some. His head was swimming. 

As he moved, he realized he was wearing his sweater. His sweater from— yesterday. But no pants. Boxers. He hadn’t undressed himself— he hadn’t changed—

His jeans were draped over his desk chair, and the rectangular outline of his phone was obvious in one of the front pockets. It wasn’t plugged in to charge. Suddenly, nausea spiked heavily in Hongbin’s gut, and he looked back at his nightstand, at his digital clock now that the water glass was out of the way. It was almost five in the _evening_. He was supposed to be in to work at eleven this morning. Six hours ago. 

“Fuck,” Hongbin said hoarsely, sloppily putting the glass back on his nightstand, water sloshing out over his bed in his haste. He shoved the blankets off himself and stood up— and then was promptly on the floor. For a terrible disorienting moment, his vision faded out and he felt like he was going to faint. 

The carpet was linty, and had more than its fair share of crumbs, but he let his cheek rest on it anyway as he tried to regain his equilibrium. When he didn’t move, he felt almost alright. He could, marginally, think.

Why hadn’t he changed— how had he gotten home— he couldn’t _remember_ — not well, anyway. There was a sort of vague memory of motion, the backseat of their car, dim glittering golden lights, people moving in murky shapes around him. The last thing he remembered with any real clarity was—

Wonshik. Wonshik’s hands on him, his touch soft over Hongbin’s jaw. _Let me have it_. 

He’d been glamoured. 

Laying on the floor made him feel ridiculous, so he slowly pushed himself up, careful not to jostle his head around too much. Then he peered around, equally as gingerly, trying to take stock of himself, to piece together the events of last night through the glamour haze, and fear. Fear that he’d be unable to recollect it all, that he’d find something missing. 

Hongbin sat there for a long while, eyes half closed and mouth half open, probably looking like the worst kind of idiot. After much consideration, picking through his mind as if it were a crime scene, he’d come to several conclusions. The first was that Wonshik was either fucking terrible at glamouring despite his age, or had a heart as soft and bruisable as a peach. 

Because Hongbin remembered everything. And he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to remember it. 

The second conclusion was that he had definitely been glamoured much more intensely than he’d ever been before in his life— but to what end when Wonshik hadn’t, obviously, done what he was supposed to be doing when he was in Hongbin’s head, Hongbin wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was just for the show of it. If he’d left Hongbin— intact, as Hakyeon had said, deliberately. 

But if he hadn’t— how would Hongbin know, he couldn’t ask and risk giving it away if Wonshik was just a giant fuck-up of a vampire. That was something to ponder. 

And thirdly— not only did Hongbin still have all his own memories, he was rather inclined to think he’d gotten some new ones. Pieces of a puzzle that weren’t his. They were all— off, wrong, probably because they’d come from someone else’s mind, seen through eyes that weren’t his. Slices from Wonshik, flickering bits and pieces. He wondered if that meant— Wonshik had seen everything Hongbin had, too. 

Some of it, Hongbin didn’t mind overmuch if Wonshik saw. But some of it— oh, some of it he minded a lot. 

There were so many questions with no readily available answers. Hongbin felt like he was going to throw up all the water he’d just drunk. But he rather thought if he did that he really might pass out from the effort. And there was despair creeping in, despair and fear. Because he didn’t know what Wonshik had walked away from Hongbin’s mind with. He hadn’t stolen anything, but he had possibly _seen_.

It was too much, and Hongbin just couldn’t. The haze was pushing at the fringes of his mind, his poor exhausted mind, and it was easier to not fight it, let the aftereffects run their course.

So Hongbin pushed himself up enough to get into bed once more, and let the numbness take him back again. 

——

Hakyeon was talking. And it was loud. It was very loud. It was so loud, it all but barreled through Taekwoon’s closed door, greeting him on his re-entry into a conscious state before he’d even had a chance to open his eyes.

The words clung together, blurring at their edges and making it impossible to pick them apart. Taekwoon thought he caught his name, perhaps, but the rest was a lurching drone interrupted here and there by abrupt silences. Hakyeon was on the phone. Lord only knew how he got signal down here. Magic vampire technology. They could make millions selling it. Maybe they already were.

Taekwoon needed to get up, see what was going on, if he could help, but the thought of facing Hakyeon— were he human, he might have blushed. As it was he rolled over and pressed his face into his pillow, hiding it, as if there was someone in the room to see. 

He hadn’t meant to kiss Hakyeon. Which wasn’t to say it had been an accident, how could it have been. It was more— had he stopped to think about it, he probably wouldn’t have done it. Once done, it couldn’t be taken back. Because now it wasn’t just Taekwoon tormenting himself, this had bared Hakyeon to the sharp winds of Taekwoon’s cowardice. And Taekwoon had seen the way Hakyeon had looked at him. It had been very clear, the extent to which Taekwoon could do— damage. Hakyeon had, willingly or not, given Taekwoon his heart to either cradle, or drop. And Taekwoon was terrified of dropping it. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself not to fuck this up, by being frightened, or just by being stupid. 

But he could try. And Hakyeon had agreed to let him— lead. Taekwoon wasn’t sure he was going to lead them anywhere Hakyeon wanted to go, and certainly not in a particularly smooth or efficient fashion, but— he wasn’t going to take for granted that Hakyeon was letting him explore this at his own pace. That Hakyeon was letting him use his heart and body as something to potentially toy with. That Hakyeon trusted him. 

Taekwoon touched his fingertips to his lips, closed his eyes, and remembered the warmth of Hakyeon’s skin.

Yes, they could only go forward. He could only go forward. Like with so many things of late.

With a large, affected sigh, Taekwoon heaved himself out of bed, shoving his plush blankets out of the way and leaving them in a heap. If this room was going to feel like home, rather than a hotel, it needed to be— maybe a bit less tidy. 

He looked down at himself, his worn pajama pants, softened shirt. Bare feet. There was that odd sensation, of knowing the temperature was on the colder side, he could tell, but it didn’t really register as an unpleasantness. And this was his home. He didn’t need to always be perfectly presentable before leaving his room. So he went to his door, and a small bit of tension eased in him when he could pull it open without hindrance. 

Hakyeon’s voice was louder without the door closing Taekwoon in, and Taekwoon followed the sound down the hall and into the common area, where he found Hakyeon pacing beside the coffee table, his feet making the faux fur on the rug stick up every which way. Hakyeon turned when Taekwoon came into the room, eyebrow raised quizzically, body still clad in his own sleeping wear. His fringe was wavy and lightly feathered over his forehead, a bit mussed as if he hadn’t brushed it yet. 

Hakyeon absently dropped the phone from the side of his face, just a little, as he and Taekwoon stared at one another across the room. The person on the other end, unaware, kept droning on, their voice coming through the speaker tinnily. “I’ll call you back,” Hakyeon said, loudly, and hung up while the other person was still talking. 

Taekwoon blinked, curious, but unsure if he was allowed to ask questions. Unsure what he was supposed to say at all. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, coming undone from too many washings.

Hakyeon took the burden away from him, tossing his phone onto the nearby lounge chair and then smiling gently at Taekwoon. “Hello, kitten,” he murmured. His eyes flickered over Taekwoon’s torso, and then fixated back on his face, his expression just a little frozen. “I’ve just been setting up what I can, for the party.” He gestured stiffly beside himself, down at the coffee table. Not much of the table could be seen; it had been buried beneath loose sheets of paper, sketched on with strokes of black, spots filled in here and there with red. 

Taekwoon approached, somewhat confused, and stopped beside Hakyeon, close enough to touch. He felt Hakyeon watching him. It became clearer, then. The sketches were all simple clothing ideas, Hakyeon’s hands smudged here and there with red and black ink. Taekwoon bent to pick up the topmost sketch, with its slim-cut dark trousers, and very low cut buttoned shirt. 

“I know you like black,” Hakyeon said slowly, “but I think you told me you also like red?”

They were his favorite colors. He didn’t know what to do with the fact that Hakyeon remembered. “I do,” Taekwoon murmured. His eyes flickered to the other sketches, saw a lot of similar cuts. Fitted where it mattered, and showing a lot of neck. “I thought I’d have to wear a suit.” It felt surreal to be talking about fashion, when the memory of the kiss hung so heavily between them. But Taekwoon could never make himself bring it up. He might die from mortification.

Hakyeon’s mouth twisted a little, unhappily, and Taekwoon’s stomach clenched. “That can be arranged, if you prefer,” Hakyeon said simply, and Taekwoon shook his head, a little. “I just thought you’d like something a bit— more freeing? You didn't strike me as someone who would enjoy a button-up and tie.”

Taekwoon didn’t think this was about what he wanted, so much as it was about the game. Hakyeon was trying not to embarrass him, but— “Would something like this be acceptable?” Taekwoon asked, touching the very deep dip in the collar of the shirt. “This is— this is a bait outfit.”

“A bit, yes,” Hakyeon said slowly. He bit his bottom lip, clearly a little nervous. “It would be wise, for— for you to look—” He paused, steeling himself. “For you to look as appealing as possible.”

Appealing for vampires. “To go with your story,” Taekwoon said, keeping his voice measured, emotionless. He noted how Hakyeon was making this distinction, that he wasn’t simply trying to make Taekwoon look appealing, for his own selfish desires. Careful, so careful, to not make Taekwoon feel uncomfortable, or like he was being taken advantage of. Preyed upon. Taekwoon trusted Hakyeon enough to know that wasn’t what this was. “You need everyone to believe that you were so enchanted by me you killed those vampires out of grief and anger. And not just to hide that I’m— I was— a hunter.” It made sense, and Taekwoon nodded to himself slowly. 

Hakyeon’s nervousness seemed to dissolve as Taekwoon spoke, like honey in hot tea. “You think me being enchanted by you was a fabrication?” he asked, tone somber but only barely. His eyes were gleaming, giving the impression he was smiling even though he wasn’t. 

“Well—” Taekwoon said, his entire vocabulary vanishing under Hakyeon’s fond gaze. “I wouldn’t have— _enchanted_ seems a bit— yes.” People weren’t enchanted by Taekwoon. He was surly and grungy on most of his better days. The idea of it made Taekwoon feel warm with embarrassment. Hakyeon had wanted— did want— him, he knew this, but it wasn’t the same. 

Finally, Hakyeon’s mouth curled in a small smile, his eyes going half-lidded as if his lashes were suddenly too heavy to hold up. “Kitten—” Hakyeon began, then he stopped and sighed, shook his head lightly. “Would you like me to order you a boring suit?”

Hakyeon said _boring_ like Taekwoon would have said _vampires_ not two months ago. Taekwoon wrinkled his nose and looked back down at the sketch in his hands, tried to envision it on himself. Hongbin would look very pretty in it, but Taekwoon had never been bait before, had never thought he’d suit the role. He still wasn’t sure. “Are _you_ wearing a suit?” he asked, instead of giving a proper answer.

“Not exactly,” Hakyeon said, and when Taekwoon simply blinked at him in curiosity, he continued, “I’m wearing— simplicity.” He shrugged, casual, and it was such a graceful motion that Taekwoon felt his mouth go dry. Abruptly, the sharpness of the line of Hakyeon’s shoulders, the inward curve of his waist, made Taekwoon remember that night, the night the swing had broken. The night Taekwoon had grasped Hakyeon and lifted him up, felt his solidity and his smallness at once. “Black slacks, black button down, black tie, black waistcoat. Sanghyuk always teases me and says I look like a waiter.” Hakyeon grinned, laughing breathily to himself for a moment before he sobered a bit. “But i think it’d be best if I at least tried to look— demure. It wouldn’t do, for me to be flashy given the current climate of things.”

Taekwoon knew he was staring— staring at where the bright white of Hakyeon’s teeth had vanished behind his lips, as his smile faded. It took effort, for him to replay Hakyeon’s words and process them. “Given the current climate of things,” he said slowly, rolling the words and their meaning around. “Given the triple homicide accusation.” 

Hakyeon licked his lips, just a small bit of tongue poking out, and Taekwoon’s gaze shot up to Hakyeon’s eyes— Hakyeon was staring back at him, and had noticed Taekwoon looking at his mouth. His eyes were back to glittering.

Taekwoon made a noise, a slight cough as if clearing his throat, and abruptly looked away. He busied himself putting the sketch back on the table, keeping his eyes on the other papers. “I don’t really— this is all new to me, and I don’t know what is and isn’t acceptable,” he stammered out, trying to cover up the moment. He wasn’t lying. Vampire culture really did baffle him in many ways. “I’d like to look— nice. I’ve never really had a chance to, before.” 

As soon as he said it, he felt renewed embarrassment. It was stupid and immature, and saying it aloud simply drove that fact home. Such shallow things.

But Hakyeon didn’t laugh. “I’ll have a couple outfits made for you, and you can decide in the end,” he said, voice perfectly even and giving nothing away. Taekwoon’s immediate thought was that it was a waste of money, buying clothing for him. But he trusted Hakyeon’s judgement and ended up simply nodding, so that maybe he could get out of this conversation. “We’ll have to check your measurements, but for now— are you hungry?”

For all that Taekwoon still didn’t particularly enjoy drinking blood, he still threw himself to the spike of hunger that followed Hakyeon’s words. It covered his thoughts and embarrassment in that familiar haze, frosted glass on a window. “Yes,” Taekwoon said, maybe a little wryly. “I’m always hungry.”

Hakyeon shifted closer, his hand coming up and almost touching Taekwoon’s arm. But then it dropped before Hakyeon had made contact. Taekwoon fought to not to exhale shakily, to hold himself still. “I know you are,” Hakyeon murmured, low, intimate, as if he was sharing a secret. “But you’ve been doing far better than even I could have hoped. Your stubbornness has really come in handy.” He smiled sweetly, and Taekwoon squirmed under the praise. “I’ve called a feeder for you— I think I mentioned Chanyeol owns a, uhm, catering service? Of sorts. He has some extra to spare.”

Taekwoon remembered Hakyeon saying something about that, though he still had very little idea what the hell it meant.

“What exactly—” Taekwoon cut himself off as Hakyeon turned away from him, looking to the hallway that lead to the library. Taekwoon followed his gaze, heard the faint sound of shuffling footsteps, until Sanghyuk emerged from the dimness of the hallway, squinting in the light of the common room. He was wearing his clothing from the previous night, crusty hints of blood clinging to the underside of his nose, smudged on the lobes of his ears.

Sanghyuk stopped when he caught sight of them, blinking very slowly. “Good evening,” he said, and punctuated it with a yawn that was very slightly fangy.

Taekwoon gave a small wave, awkward as could be, and Hakyeon asked sharply, “Where were you?”

“Library,” Sanghyuk answered. He gestured behind himself at the hallway for unnecessary emphasis.

There was a pause, as if in anticipation of further explanation, but Sanghyuk’s gaze was clearly turned inwards, the churning thoughts obvious in his eyes. “I didn’t see you go in,” Hakyeon prompted, and Sanghyuk stared blankly at him. “Did you stay up in there all day?”

“Ah, no,” Sanghyuk said, and it was almost automatic.

Hakyeon’s eyes narrowed, going all squinty and cute. “Then why did you have the bleeds?”

Sanghyuk touched the tip of his nose, and some dried blood flecked off on his fingertips, like old paint. “I stayed up a little, just a little,” he said, pulling his hand away from his face and rubbing his fingertips together so the blood drifted off. “I did sleep some, I know I did, because your yammering woke me up.” 

Hakyeon made an indignant sort of noise, and Taekwoon smiled to himself over it, touching Hakyeon’s elbow softly. He hooked his fingertips into the sleeve of Hakyeon’s sleep-shirt, tugging just a little, and Hakyeon deflated from where he’d begun to puff himself up. Sanghyuk took advantage of the break in Hakyeon’s interrogation to shuffle forward, coming to stand alongside them and stare down at the littered coffee table. He bent, pushing papers around, examining them, and then glanced at Hakyeon quizzically. 

“For the opening party,” Hakyeon said tersely, and Sanghyuk nodded, as if that was what he’d guessed. “Why were you awake all day, Sanghyuk?”

Sanghyuk heaved a sigh, straightening up to his full height once more. It was rare Taekwoon had to look up at anyone, and from so close, he could see there were bits of dried blood clinging to Sanghyuk’s bottom lashes as well. “I was doing research,” Sanghyuk said softly. “For Jaehwan.” 

Taekwoon’s stomach swooped unpleasantly, and annoyance, maybe even anger, swiftly followed in the wake of the words. It was the bitter tang of hopelessness. They’d already run through every recourse they could, overturned every stone, and Jaehwan was still dying. And Taekwoon was tired of saying it, was tired of thinking it. No, this won’t work, no, that can’t work. Over and over at every turn. 

He wasn’t going to say it aloud anymore, and if Sanghyuk still had hope, it wasn’t Taekwoon’s job to take it from him. He’d figure it out for himself soon enough, even as some tiny part of Taekwoon wished the vampires could, truly, find some miracle solution that would keep Jaehwan from the clawing hands of death. 

Taekwoon’s fingers had begun to clutch Hakyeon’s shirtsleeve rather tightly, and he made the conscious effort to loosen his grip.

“I called Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk was saying, addressing Hakyeon. “I’d like to bring him here, there’s some things I want to run by him.” He glanced at Taekwoon. “Are you—”

“We have a feeder coming,” Hakyeon interrupted before Taekwoon could speak. “Give us a few minutes.”

Sanghyuk nodded again, clearly thinking once more. “I’ll have him meet me in the park then, and you can text me when it’s safe,” he muttered slowly, mostly to himself it seemed. He rubbed at the underside of his nose again, and when he spoke, it was at a normal volume once more. “I’ll wash up and change quickly, and then go.”

“Leaving?” Wonshik’s deep voice rumbled through the room, so loud it almost startled Taekwoon. They all turned in that eerie sort of unison reserved for vampires, to see Wonshik coming out of the proper hallway. He, unusually, was dressed, jeans and a simple shirt, as if he’d been awake a while already.

“He’s going to pick up Jaehwan,” Taekwoon said, quiet in comparison, and was glad his voice came out even and not at all mocking. 

Wonshik seemed to absorb that, face as unreadable as always. “What about Hongbin?”

That was a question Taekwoon did not know the answer to, and he was ashamed of himself for not asking it first.

“Jaehwan asked him if he wanted to come with him here, and Hongbin apparently told him to piss off,” Sanghyuk said, wrinkling his nose and shrugging his shoulder. “Which seems to indicate he’s— in a Hongbin sort of mood.” He said it as if it was a positive sign, and Taekwoon did ease some over it, though he still had some cold dread in his heart.

Maybe Wonshik saw it. “I’ll check on him,” Wonshik said. “I’d like to check on him.” Taekwoon wanted to check on Hongbin too, but he could see in Wonshik’s face that— there was something there, something like guilt. And he understood that maybe Wonshik needed to see Hongbin alone. 

It probably made Taekwoon a coward, but he wasn’t sure he could face Hongbin and pretend the uglier parts of last night hadn’t happened. He was glad someone else would do it for him.

Taekwoon notched himself halfway behind Hakyeon for comfort, as if Hakyeon could protect him from his own weaknesses.

“We’ll be here,” Hakyeon said simply to Wonshik. “Let us know if you, or Hongbin, needs anything.”

Wonshik nodded shortly, then motioned to the hallway. “I’ll wait for you.”

Sanghyuk immediately flitted down the hallway, presumably so he wouldn’t have to keep Jaehwan waiting much longer. Wonshik didn’t bother watching him go, his gaze fixed somewhere over Taekwoon’s shoulder, dazed and a little sad. 

——

Jaehwan had the chills, and not from the temperature, though that definitely didn’t help. It was, to put it mildly, nippy. No, it was that dreadful unease, lodged as deep into Jaehwan as his bone marrow. The instinctual feeling of wrongness all humans experienced, being outside under an open night sky. When the monsters roamed. 

He pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie, face turning down into the folds of his scarf as a breeze picked up. It scattered brown leaves, loose tufts of newly fallen snow. The tree canopy above kept the snow from falling hard here, but flakes still managed to get through, floating down silently. They caught on the yellow light of the short lamps that lined the park’s branching pathways, before the wind swept them away in spirals to the darkness.

Jaehwan huddled near a lamp, the top of it coming up to his chin, as if proximity to it would give him warmth. Or help Sanghyuk see him. It would make no effect on either thing, but the urge was there all the same. He scanned the area around himself alertly for movement, though his senses would probably warn him of danger before his eyes did. With his abilities, he didn’t truly have anything to fear from the night— even weakened as he was, he could deliver a hellish reckoning. So long as he only had to do it the once. If he had to do it at all. The scarf around his neck caught, a bit, against the small bandages he’d put over his bite wounds, scabbed and prone to peeling. Lengthened exposure to vampires was baring a wealth of new information, and as Jaehwan learned of their laws and politics, of territories and claimings— he understood now that even if he did happen upon a wandering vampire, the chances of them attempting him harm were unlikely. 

Headlights streaked weakly through the air, a car passing along the street just through the thin line of trees behind Jaehwan on one side of the path. In between the gaps Jaehwan could see the glow of the occasional porch light. Homes, warm and beckoning. He turned his face back to the other side of the path, where the trees resumed and thickened as the ground sloped upwards into high rolling hills and the gaps in the trees only showed more trees, and that palpable darkness that seemed reserved for wooded lands.

Jaehwan had been right; he sensed Sanghyuk, before his eyes caught on him. The gradual approach meant he wasn’t startled, which he greatly appreciated. Even knowing Sanghyuk would never harm him couldn’t quell that terrible flash of soul-deep terror that struck through his body in those moments where he was alone, and then he very suddenly wasn’t. Nothing could make anyone, even a sorcerer, shit themselves quite like a vampire materializing in close proximity.

But Sanghyuk was sauntering, and Jaehwan could see him coming down the path, passing through pools of light, one after the other. A long trail of tiny bubbles of brightness, like will-o-wisps. For a long few moments as Sanghyuk approached, the effect in tandem with the slow-falling snow around him was so enchanting that Jaehwan forgot to be cold. 

“Hello,” Sanghyuk said once he was near, smiling in a lopsided way that was young and terribly human. Jaehwan left his place by the lamp so he could step into Sanghyuk’s arms. Sanghyuk had been expecting him; the heat of him was so strong it bled through his clothing and Jaehwan’s. 

Jaehwan shivered as he remembered how cold he was, because he’d been reminded of warmth.

“Beautiful darling,” Sanghyuk murmured against his temple, and Jaehwan shivered again. “You’re cold.” He brought his hands up and cupped them over Jaehwan’s cheeks, fingertips pressing against his ears. Everywhere he touched was very warm. 

“I am,” Jaehwan said, injecting as much petulance into it as he could, and Sanghyuk breathed out a little laugh. There were snowflakes caught in his lashes, in his black hair, melting against the dark wool of his jacket. “You made me venture out into this frozen tundra.”

“I wanted— I need to speak to you alone,” Sanghyuk said, the words mildly ominous, though he said them gently and still with a small smile on his face. He let his hands fall from Jaehwan’s face, and instead took hold of one of Jaehwan’s hands and gently tugged him into motion, back along the way he had come from.

Jaehwan’s cheeks tingled, both from the loss of contact as well as from renewed cold. There wasn’t much snow on the ground, not enough to completely cover the browned grass, or the concrete pathway, but enough that Sanghyuk had left a trail of footprints. They walked over them, as if tracking an animal.

“This thing you need to talk to me about,” Jaehwan said slowly, “you couldn’t ask me at home?”

Sanghyuk slid him a sidelong glance. It was vaguely sardonic. “Hongbin doesn’t seem to like letting me and you speak alone.” 

Jaehwan had to admit that was true. Hongbin had been out of sorts, though still decidedly cantankerous and uncooperative, when Jaehwan had left. He still didn’t like leaving him behind, especially not when he was so— potentially unpredictable.

Sanghyuk must have seen the way Jaehwan’s eyes darted over his own shoulder, heard the slight uptick in his heart rate, because he said, “Wonshik is checking on him. While you’re out. So don’t worry.”

Jaehwan’s eyes snapped to meet his, widening a little. “Oh,” he said softly. “Thank you.” That definitely eased some of the anxiety gripping Jaehwan’s heart. Wonshik— was Wonshik. Jaehwan may not know him overly well, but he did know at this point that he wouldn’t harm Hongbin. And perhaps he needed, even deserved, maybe, some time with Hongbin, after last night. 

“He feels guilty,” Sanghyuk said, as if reading Jaehwan’s mind. “Wonshik, I mean. I think he needed to see for himself that Hongbin is alright after everything.”

Jaehwan gazed into the distance, at the brightness of the lamps and the darkness of the night, the snow swirling through both. “Me too.” He shook himself, shivering again as the wind cut through the thin layer of his jeans. “You couldn’t simply take me right to your— home?” he griped. That’s where they were headed, but Jaehwan didn’t understand why they couldn’t have taken the car and driven nearer to it. Or have Sanghyuk pick him up and carry him, as if he were spoils of war. “It’s cold, Sanghyuk. And I’m frail and sickly.”

Sanghyuk’s lips twitched into a smile, though he looked down, eyes sad. “We’re going there now, we just have to go a little slowly,” he said. He squeezed Jaehwan’s hand gently. More softly, he added, “Taekwoon hadn’t fed yet, when I left.” Jaehwan stuttered a bit, but Sanghyuk didn’t comment on it. He merely adjusted his pace, so Jaehwan could remember himself, and then continued walking. “Hakyeon will text me after he’s fed and the feeder is gone. I know it is cold, but it shouldn’t be too long now.” He paused. “And before we talk, there are things I must go over with you in our home. So. We must wait for it to be safe.”

Jaehwan swallowed thickly, knowing he should feel nonchalant about this, and yet he had to admit he wasn’t there yet. It still felt foreign, almost wrong. The idea of Taekwoon biting into someone, drinking blood. Of Taekwoon _wanting_ to. 

“Is it impolite to ask who he’s been—” Jaehwan began, then couldn’t quite make himself say the word. 

“The first few nights it was feeders employed at the house,” Sanghyuk said readily. He smiled down at Jaehwan a little, and Jaehwan felt his cheeks pinkening. “But with opening night almost here they need to keep their strength so they can be whole for their first clients. So Chanyeol’s been sending over some of his feeders.”

Jaehwan absorbed that quietly, mulling over the meanings and all he’d learned of late. “Chanyeol brought his own feeders? For him and his— entourage?” Jaehwan asked slowly, feeling even more embarrassed. He wasn’t sure if Chanyeol had come with an entourage, but he was a king— though a vampire king. Whatever that meant. He wondered if Taekwoon would owe Chanyeol favors for this benevolence. He wondered where Chanyeol’s castle was and when he’d be going back to it.

“Chanyeol has a human he has claimed that he uses to sustain himself; the feeders he’s brought are employed under a catering company, of sorts, that he owns,” Sanghyuk explained, and Jaehwan lost control of his facial expression, openly staring quizzically up at Sanghyuk. Images of humans being served over portable stoves paraded through Jaehwan’s mind, though he was very certain that wasn’t what Sanghyuk had meant when he’d said catering. Sanghyuk chuckled at his reaction, and Jaehwan bumped their shoulders together. “He’s brought them here for the feeder house opening party, as a gift and favor to Kyungsoo. Most of the guests will be vampires, but the humans employed at the feeder house are— reserved, shall we say. They’re trained to be more than just blood donors. Clients aren’t supposed to just be taking nibbles here and there. They need to pay for rooms and privacy, and hourly rates. But it would be rude to host a vampire gathering, and not have available blood. So catering companies like Chanyeol’s are very useful.” At Jaehwan’s silence, and the mild scowl on his brow, Sanghyuk added, “They’re well paid, and well taken care of. Assurances of safety are in their contracts. Some vampires— throw laws and rules out the window and let their impulses reign. But a lot of our kind like to see themselves as cultured and enlightened, even more so than humans. And it would be unseemly, to commit murder in a ballroom.” 

Jaehwan didn’t miss Sanghyuk’s sardonic tone. It was a lot of information, but the end of it seemed to be simply that vampires weren’t so different from humans, in a lot of ways. Humans liked to think they were civilized too. More than anything Jaehwan was just amazed that there was this whole culture and way of life he’d never known anything about before. It made sense for vampires to have their own society— he’d just never given any thought to it before.

“I’m sorry,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan shook himself, surfacing from his thoughts. Sanghyuk’s playful expression was gone off his face. He looked serious, as much as he could with his youthful face and snow melting in his hair. 

Jaehwan stopped walking, feet crunching on ice underfoot, and Sanghyuk stopped too, turning so his body faced Jaehwan’s. “Why are you sorry?” he asked.

“I just know it must be a bit tiring, to be a human in the world of vampires,” Sanghyuk said gently. He brought his free hand up and touched his fingertips to the underside of Jaehwan’s chin. There were snowflakes caught in Jaehwan’s own lashes now, he could see them every time he blinked. 

“There’s part of both our worlds that are ugly,” Jaehwan murmured. “But I like learning about yours.” Sanghyuk gave him a crooked little smile, and Jaehwan’s heart stuttered in a way that wasn’t wholly unpleasant. “You said— this party, this opening party for the feeder house, it’s soon? Are you going?”

Sanghyuk’s eyes were on Jaehwan’s mouth, his fingertips ghosting up to trail over Jaehwan’s bottom lip in a way that was very distracting. “Yes,” Sanghyuk muttered absently. “I have to go.”

“Could I go too?” Jaehwan asked, and he sensed that he’d surprised Sanghyuk, judging by the little frisson that went through the vampire’s body. Sanghyuk’s hand dropped from his face. “If not it’s alright, I was just curious.”

Sanghyuk gave him a measured look, exhaling in a long, visible puff of steam as he considered. “I can ask, if you want,” he said, finally. “I’m just not sure—” He cut off, his head snapping to the side alertly.

Jaehwan turned in the direction Sanghyuk was looking, seeing nothing but the trail of lights, and darkened trees and brush getting steadily more covered in snow. “What is it?” he asked.

Sanghyuk didn’t answer, and in the next moment Jaehwan found himself in Sanghyuk’s arms, his feet no longer touching the ground. He squeaked in surprise, but by the time the sound came out, Sanghyuk had leapt and taken them both off the path, over the slim expanse of grass and into the cover of the trees. Then Jaehwan was back on the ground, though now it was uneven dirt and tree roots instead of concrete. His back pressed to a tree, the bark rough, and Sanghyuk pressed against his front, peering over Jaehwan’s shoulder and around the tree back to the path they’d just come from. The light of the lamps glittered in his dark eyes, unblinking and fixated. 

“What is it?” Jaehwan asked again, but this time it was a bare whisper. 

Sanghyuk ducked in close, nodding in the direction over Jaehwan’s shoulder. “Look,” he said softly, breath fanning against Jaehwan’s cheek. 

Jaehwan turned as best he could, being pinned between Sanghyuk and a tree, both tall and very solid. He peered around the tree carefully, heart going fast, and saw nothing moving but the falling snow. 

“There they are,” Sanghyuk whispered, right into Jaehwan’s ear, and Jaehwan couldn’t help but shudder. “They’re coming down from the trail up into the hills. Maybe they got lost before night fell.”

Jaehwan waited, and then saw what Sanghyuk had probably heard coming. A couple, a young man and woman, walking very briskly along the path. The man had his arm around the woman’s shoulders, ushering her along, and the woman had her hand in her purse as she kept looking furtively around. They were dressed well, possibly had been on a date. But the trails through the hills were long and winding. And in the dimness of the forest it was easy to lose track of time. 

“They were probably walking through the hills and dusk snuck up on them,” Jaehwan said quietly, watching them skitter along, their fear obvious. They were heading back to the main, most popular area of the park, with its man-made lake and jungle gym. There was a parking lot over there, which was probably their goal. To get back to their car. 

“What do you think she’s got in her purse?” Sanghyuk asked. His lips brushed over Jaehwan’s ear, and Jaehwan knew Sanghyuk was doing it on purpose. Their bodies were pressed very close, and everywhere they touched Jaehwan felt warm. 

“Probably Fae Sprae or— that new silver spray they have, for vampires specifically,” Jaehwan said, maybe a little breathless. 

Sanghyuk hummed in agreement. The couple had passed them by now, and Jaehwan’s eyes skittered over the curls of the woman’s hair, the emblem on the back of the man’s jacket. He turned away, facing forward once more, and his nose dragged over Sanghyuk’s jawline as he did so. Jaehwan let his head thunk back against the tree trunk, simply for the sake of putting more space between their faces. Sanghyuk didn’t look at him though, had his eyes trained on the humans fleeing from the monsters in the night. 

“If I wasn’t here,” Jaehwan said softly, staring up at Sanghyuk’s focused face, “what would you have done to them?”

Sanghyuk blinked, and then finally looked away from what could have been his prey, face turning down so he could meet Jaehwan’s eyes. At this angle, his eyes didn’t shine with the lamplight, so much as they just barely glittered. “Are you asking if I would have attacked them?” he murmured. He didn’t sound bothered by the question— quite the opposite. There was a definite gleam in his eyes, and it didn’t calm Jaehwan’s racing heart at all. 

“I—” Jaehwan stammered, and stopped because Sanghyuk’s hand was ghosting over his chest and up, delving underneath his scarf until he was pressing his warm fingertips to Jaehwan’s neck, the bite marks hidden under bandages. 

“Are you asking if I would have done this?” Sanghyuk murmured, voice low and deep. He swiped his thumb over Jaehwan’s throat, and Jaehwan swallowed against the pressure. “If I would have pinned one of them down like this, sunk my fangs into them like I did to you—”

Jaehwan made a small, involuntary noise. It was so cold, but the memory made him feel unbearably warm, and without thinking about it he tipped his chin up, just a little, his bite marks throbbing. His fingertips pressed into the tree bark at his back, bracing himself, steadying as best he could. 

Sanghyuk’s eyes had gone hooded. “I love that,” he whispered, voice a bare rasp. 

“What?” Jaehwan asked, knowing he sounded and looked dazed. Sanghyuk wrapping his arm around Jaehwan’s middle, pressing them further together and making him arch. Jaehwan went limply.

“Feeling that little magical barrier flicker away,” Sanghyuk murmured. “Feeling your body ask me for the bite.” 

Jaehwan was shaking. “Sanghyuk,” he said, the word thick in his mouth. 

Sanghyuk kissed him, open mouthed and damp, and Jaehwan moaned, already squirming against him. Jaehwan could feel his fangs, their sharp tips caught on his bottom lip, just enough to hurt. He was sure there was so much heat between them that any snow was vaporizing before it could touch them. Nothing could touch them. His pulse rushed heavily in his veins, a palpable thing.

Jaehwan scrambled at Sanghyuk’s shoulders, numb hands slipping over the leather on his arms. Sanghyuk broke the kiss just enough to gasp out, “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. You need all your blood.” His lips brushed over Jaehwan’s as he spoke, his breath rushing into Jaehwan’s lungs. “And I wouldn’t have attacked those humans either— I haven’t fed on anyone unwilling in a long time.” His heaving chest pushed rhythmically against Jaehwan’s, and slowly, Jaehwan eased away, until his spine was once again pressed to the tree behind himself. Sanghyuk let him go enough so that he _could_ put that space between them.

“I believe that,” Jaehwan said finally. Sanghyuk was beautiful, sharp as a blade and intense as a hurricane. He’d probably had humans begging him to take them for decades. 

Sanghyuk’s lashes fluttered as he looked down, a grin twisting his mouth. “I would have given them the scare of their lives though,” he said, gaze flickering back up at Jaehwan, mischievous and wicked. 

Jaehwan blinked, and then he found himself laughing, covering his mouth so the sound wouldn’t carry out into the night. The couple was surely gone by now, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. 

Sanghyuk’s grin grew into a genuine smile, seeming pleased that he’d made Jaehwan laugh.

“They would have peed themselves,” Jaehwan said, breathless, and Sanghyuk kissed his cheek, nuzzling against him. Jaehwan pushed half-heartedly at his chest. Sanghyuk did not budge. “You’re terrible. You’re terrible but it would have been so funny.” 

“It would have,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan could feel his smile against his cheek. “Maybe next time. The teenage boys are the best.” At the look Jaehwan gave him after he’d pulled back, Sanghyuk said, “What? Eternity is long and what good is it if I can’t traumatize the occasional douchebag?”

Jaehwan shook his head, still smiling. “Terrible.”

Sanghyuk might have replied, but there was a small beeping noise, and he chose instead to pull his phone from his back pocket. After glancing at the screen he said, “The feeder’s gone, we can go now.”

Jaehwan slipped his arms around Sanghyuk’s neck readily, and Sanghyuk laughed, obligingly picking Jaehwan up once more and flittering away with him.

—— 

Wonshik stopped across the street from the hunter’s house, Hongbin’s house, far enough away that he wouldn’t disturb the house’s wards. The porch light was on, but there was barely any glow, coming from beyond the blinds of the living room window, all the other windows dark. 

It was strange, to feel so nervous, at the sight of a rundown home. The grass was brown and yellow, covered under a dusting of snow; the pillar of the porch they’d paid to replace was stark in comparison with the dullness of its companions. Roof shingles sat askew, and the wooden steps sagged, rotting away. Everything about the house just felt like it had let out a huge sigh and slumped, slowly giving up. And yet Wonshik was intimidated.

Hongbin was a force to be reckoned with. Sanghyuk talked of Jaehwan as if he was a snow flurry at dawn, cool pinpricks on skin, but Hongbin was more like a vengeful storm that threw ships to the cliffs and left blood smeared on craggy ocean rocks.

 _Force me_ , he remembered Hongbin saying, voice laced with contempt so thick it had felt like poison, _vampire_.

Wonshik swallowed. There was nothing to be done for it. Hongbin needed to be checked on. And it had to be Wonshik.

He took off across the street, his magic carrying him as if he were a shadow around to the back of the house, up onto the porch. The kitchen light was on, and Wonshik for a flash saw Hongbin sitting at his kitchen table, bent over papers strewn across the fake wood. But then Hongbin’s head was raising, eyes flickering up as he felt the house wards react to Wonshik’s presence, and Wonshik moved quickly so he could knock on the back door, not wanting to spook Hongbin if he looked to the window. Monsters lurking in the dim weren’t an inviting sight. 

It took a long beat, and Wonshik heard the flurry of papers being swept up, the chair being scraped across the linoleum, before the back door swung open, light pouring out. 

Hongbin had been crying. And not hours ago, not this morning when he’d awoken— but just now. His eyes were red, as was the tip of his nose, and though he’d clearly tried to wipe the tears away, his cheeks were still residually damp. And he was pale, paler than usual, eyelids puffy and under eyes smudged with exhaustion and so deeply purple he looked like he’d been struck across the face.

Wonshik was so tired of seeing Hongbin cry. It was like watching a butterfly get its wings plucked off, one by one. “Hongbin,” he murmured, the low timbre of his voice surprising himself.

“You,” was all Hongbin said in response, mouth twisting cruelly. He regarded Wonshik with open suspicion, eyes peering up through tousled hair. He didn’t look like he’d even brushed it. “I missed my shift at work,” Hongbin said slowly, like he was testing Wonshik. “I slept through my fucking alarm. I’m not in the mood.”

That would explain the pajamas— black and white plaid bottoms, overlong and eating Hongbin’s feet, and the large black hoodie, the cuffs tatty and ripped. Wonshik absorbed this.

“Is that why you were crying,” he asked, figuring bluntness would always be the best course of action with Hongbin. He was testing too. There was— Wonshik was old, but he wasn’t perfect, and he’d gone very deep into Hongbin’s mind— he didn’t—

“Yes,” Hongbin said, waspish. “That is why I was crying.” He was half hiding behind the door, pale fingers toying with the doorknob. He— he seemed angry, but not like he actually wanted to slam the door in Wonshik’s face.

Wonshik wondered, briefly, if Hongbin was lying, and then thought of the dilapidated state of the house, and realized he was an idiot. There’d be time for him to make amends for that later. 

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, unsure how best to lead into what he wanted to say. Hongbin watched him carefully, warily. He seemed abnormally battered down.

Maybe it wasn’t abnormal. Maybe after what he’d been put through last night, it was perfectly expected. Wonshik had never— the way Hongbin had _looked_ at him— tears streaming down his beautiful face—

“I did it on purpose,” Wonshik blurted, and Hongbin froze. That was maybe not the best. Wonshik cleared his throat and began again. “I— I left your memories alone. You don’t have to worry about hiding it— not from me anyway. It wasn’t an accident, or me just being shit at glamouring. I did it deliberately.” He looked down at the floor, the weathered mat, and scuffed the soles of his shoes against it. “So.”

“You— why,” Hongbin whispered roughly. “Why would you do that?”

Wonshik shrugged, uncomfortable. He couldn’t meet Hongbin’s eyes. In truth, he was ashamed. Ashamed of the callous way his family had treated Hongbin. “It wasn’t fair,” Wonshik said simply, because it was easiest. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

There was silence for a couple of seconds, and then Hongbin was laughing, but it was awful and derisive. Wonshik’s head snapped up at the sound. “And that’s it?” Hongbin asked, an ugly sneer across his pretty features. “You just did it out of the goodness of your heart?”

Wonshik didn’t know what else he could say, helpless in the face of Hongbin’s relentless animosity. “Yes.”

Hongbin stared at him, long and hard, face twisted hatefully. Wonshik stared back, nothing to hide. Finally, Hongbin said, “I really don’t like you.” But even as he said it, he was stepping back, leaving the door open. “Come in. I’m fucking cold.”

Wonshik obeyed, stepping into the kitchen and closing the door behind himself quietly. He noted that the papers that had previously been spread out on the table were in a tidy pile— and flipped facedown, so he could not see what they were. 

Hongbin sniffled loudly, and it drew Wonshik’s attention back to him. As Wonshik watched, Hongbin shoved the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows so when he turned the faucet on and splashed his face with cool water, they didn’t get wet. He rubbed at his eyes, bathing them in the cool water to take away the sting from his tears, and then turned the water off and dried his face on the nearby dish towel, patting roughly. Throughout this, he made sure to stay turned away from Wonshik.

“I’m sorry,” Wonshik said softly, and Hongbin’s motions stuttered for the briefest of moments. Then he folded the dish towel and threaded it back through the handle of a nearby cabinet, hanging it to dry. “I had to— you needed to be suitably glamour-drunk, so Chanyeol and Kyungsoo would believe that I’d done the job. I know it can be intense, the aftereffects— unpleasant. So I’m sorry, if it feels a bit like I rearranged your brain in your skull a bit. I didn’t actually tamper with anything.”

“Rearranged my brain in my skull,” Hongbin echoed, placing his hands on the edge of the sink and staring at the darkened window. “That’s a suitable way to put it.” Wonshik could see Hongbin’s face reflected in the glass, but not with any sort of detail— just pale skin and dark smudges where his eyes were. Hongbin was looking at his reflection too. “I saw— things.”

Wonshik remembered the grittiness of dirt under Hongbin’s hands, the soft feeling of his mother’s silk Sunday dresses as they sat beside one another in church, the sea lapping at Hongbin’s legs under the burning sun. “Yes,” Wonshik whispered. “I didn’t— I didn’t want to meddle at all. So I let your brain go where it wanted, let it flit from memory to memory, so long as you were taking me deeper it didn’t matter. But some things— they made _me_ think of my own memories.” Wonshik swallowed, a bit guilty. “I leaked in you, a little.”

Hongbin made a strange noise. “Please never say those words in that order to me ever again,” he said, and Wonshik huffed, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “So what I saw _were_ your memories.” Even from this angle, Wonshik could see Hongbin’s jaw muscles tighten. “Does that mean that everything I was seeing— you were seeing?”

This wasn’t going to go over well. “Yes,” Wonshik said carefully, “but—” He had to cut off to duck, because Hongbin, with unnerving swiftness, had snatched a dirty plate out of the sink and lobbed it like it was a fucking discus at Wonshik’s head. It missed, thankfully, breaking into pieces when it hit the wall behind Wonshik. 

Here was Hongbin as a storm once more. He had no magic, and yet he seemed to crackle with energy all the same. Wonshik wasn’t afraid of him, but he was still quite a presence to behold. “You had no right—” Hongbin yelled, blindly reaching into the sink again and coming up with a drinking glass.

“I only saw what you brought to the surface,” Wonshik shouted back. “I didn’t want to risk damaging anything by trying to direct your thoughts—” 

The glass went smashing down by Wonshik’s feet, diluted soda spraying across the floor murkily. 

“What did you see?” Hongbin fairly screamed, and Wonshik realized he was crying again. The sink was empty, but Hongbin seemed liable to lob the toaster over. “You bastard— you fucking— what did you see—”

“I—” Wonshik said, useless, he was being useless, and Hongbin’s chest was hitching with sobs as tears ran in earnest down his face. Wonshik knew, he knew he’d seen everything Hongbin hadn’t wanted him to see, and Hongbin could read that in his face.

It hadn’t been deliberate, and surely Hongbin must know that— but Wonshik could tell easily enough that this— this cut Hongbin very badly. He could see it in the way Hongbin recoiled, hunching in on himself and then over the sink, grabbing at the faucet so as to cling to it, hold himself up. Hongbin’s breathing was loud and jagged, completely out of his control.

“Can I have nothing?” he gasped, the words breaking on his sobs. “Do you monsters have to take _everything from me_ —”

“Hongbin,” Wonshik said, stepping forward. The soda on the floor was already drying, growing sticky. Wonshik didn’t know what to do, was rattled by the sound of Hongbin’s pounding heartbeat and violent breathing. It seemed impossible that this was the Hongbin he’d come to know. Proud, cold, stubborn. A fighter.

The boy in front of Wonshik, gagging into his chipped kitchen sink, was broken. He’d always been this way, Wonshik knew, now. He’d just hidden it under anger, running on bitterness as fuel. 

“Hongbin,” he said again. His hands hovered over Hongbin’s trembling back, unsure if touch would be welcome. Likely not. “You can’t— have you spoken to anyone about it—”

“I don’t exactly have the money to talk to a shrink about vampires violating me at every fucking turn these days,” Hongbin said, high and angry, the words echoing up from the sink. He took a large gulp of air, visibly trying to regain control of himself.

Wonshik tentatively let his hands rest on Hongbin’s shoulders, trying to be soothing. “No,” he said, very quietly, “I meant about your father’s suicide—”

Hongbin made a strange, utterly inhuman noise, it was loud and animalistic and painful and startled Wonshik enough that when Hongbin whirled and shoved him, he was caught unawares and stumbled back. His shoes crunched on glass.

“What is there to fucking talk about?” Hongbin spat, eyes wild. “Daddy offed himself and Mommy consoled herself by spending the entirety of the family fortune on— designer shoes and—” Hongbin stopped, because his voice had begun to grow hysterical, and he laughed instead. It was a frigid, bitter sound that Wonshik never wanted to hear again. “You know, I think I would rather be dead, than have you know this. Than to have had you pluck it directly from my mind—”

Fuck, Wonshik couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t get anywhere. Hongbin was impossible. And that thought made Wonshik fucking ache. “I didn’t know,” Wonshik said, disliking the desperation in his own voice. “I didn’t know there was a fucking landmine in your memories, Hongbin. But I also— what else was I supposed to _do_ —”

“ _You shouldn’t be in my life_ ,” Hongbin interrupted, loud and cruel. “None of you— not your fucking maker or any of— any of the others—”

“Why do you _hate me_ so much? Why do you blame me for things out of my control?” Wonshik asked, feeling the tightness in his throat. He didn’t know why this so affected him, but it did. Hongbin’s mouth snapped shut, and his chest heaved as if he’d been running. His eyes were still bright and turbulent, hair sticking to his wet face, tossed about as if he’d truly been in a storm. As opposed to being a storm personified. “I know— you said you would not owe me, for any favors I gave freely. You would not be leashed. I do not expect anything. But Hongbin— I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard.”

“I’m not asking you to try,” Hongbin said, but Wonshik could see the fight draining out of him, his exhaustion returning like an incoming tide. He braced a hand on the counter, leaning on it. A bead of sweat ran along his jaw. “You don’t— you don’t get to stand there and look like a kicked puppy, when I haven’t fucking asked for your charity, your fucking pity.”

Thickly, as if sleepwalking, Wonshik said, “It isn’t pity, Hongbin.”

“Whatever it is— I hate it,” Hongbin said, smiling without humor. He swiped at his eyes, his nose, with the sleeves of his hoodie. “I hate you, to be honest.”

Wonshik absorbed that, tucking it away to look at later, a sliver of broken glass to cut his fingertips on. “Would you hate me less if I was cruel?” he asked. 

Hongbin stared at him, hands falling away from his face. “You are cruel.”

It felt like they were standing in a wreckage, even though the mess littered on the floor was fairly minimal. But still, they stared at each other as if across a battlefield, wounded and bleeding. 

Wonshik had so many things he wanted to say. He was sorry, so sorry, not just for this violation of Hongbin’s mind and heart but also for— every beating Hongbin had received from life. Especially because now he knew, Hongbin hadn’t always been this way. The memories of his childhood were clear and vibrant with joy, with possibilities and a future. Hope. Once upon a time, Hongbin had hope. And Wonshik knew he didn’t anymore. 

“You looked at me,” Wonshik said numbly. Hongbin stared at him blankly. “Last night. You told me to force you. And then you looked at me and gave yourself up anyway.”

Understanding filtered into Hongbin’s gaze, and Wonshik could see the tension on his jaw as he grit his teeth, to not react. Wonshik breached the little distance between them, boxing Hongbin in against the counter. 

“This is what I mean,” Hongbin whispered, eyes tired even while the twist of his mouth was stubborn. “About you being cruel.”

Wonshik shook his head a little. “Your father was wrong,” he said, knowing Hongbin might snap on him again, but needing to say it anyway. “He shouldn’t have left you. He shouldn’t.” Wonshik didn’t understand why he would have done so, why anyone would turn their back on a star so bright. 

Hongbin, for a flash, looked frightened. “Stop,” he said, quavery and loud in the small space between their bodies. “Please, Wonshik.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Wonshik said, fervent, needing Hongbin to understand something that Wonshik was only partially even aware of. He just— wanted Hongbin to _see_ him. The way Wonshik saw Hongbin, now. “I know— you probably don’t trust that, don’t trust that I won’t use this, somehow. Your brain is always calculating the worst parts of people. But I promise you— I won’t.” He touched Hongbin’s damp jaw lightly, a mimicry of last night. “Hongbin.”

Hongbin shied away from the touch. “I believe you,” he said, batting at Wonshik’s hands. But gently. Oddly gentle. “I don’t— want you to touch me anymore. I don’t like it.”

Wonshik stepped back a little, bringing his hands down to his sides. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Hongbin echoed and then huffed out a little laugh, face downturned. He gave a mighty sniffle, before gesturing around them. “I need to clean this up. So I can pretend it never happened.” He looked up enough to smile thinly in Wonshik’s direction. “Don’t want Jaehwan to know I wasn’t glamoured out of my mind. Not the way he thinks.”

Wonshik looked down, at the small bits of food and the soda splatters, the glass and sharp ceramic shards. “I can help,” he offered. He wouldn’t mind. Hongbin wouldn’t heal as fast as he would, if he cut himself on the glass.

“No, I—” Hongbin’s voice trembled. “I’d like to be alone.”

 _You’re always alone_ , Wonshik thought, but he didn’t argue. It was something he’d seen echoed in Hongbin’s mind. Alone, alone. Adrift at sea and drowning. 

“I’ll go then,” Wonshik said dully. “And I won’t mention this again” 

Hongbin nodded shortly, and that was it, Wonshik thought. This could have— Wonshik understood so much more, now, and yet he knew that while they could pretend this never happened— it had. And he felt like they’d gone ten steps backwards anyway. Hongbin would never trust him again. He’d _looked_ at Wonshik, given his mind to Wonshik. Trusted him, for a flicker, a moment. And it would never happen again. Not after this.

“Wonshik,” Hongbin said, voice very small. Wonshik turned back to him, hand paused on the doorknob. “That city— by the ocean, with the beige bricks and— the slim windows— it was daylight—”

“Naples,” Wonshik said without thinking. “I met Hakyeon there. When I was still human.”

Hongbin shuffled, socked feet careful around jagged glass. “It was beautiful,” he murmured. 

Hongbin liked the ocean, Wonshik knew now, liked the blue and the seemingly endless expanse, the smell of salt and brine. But he couldn’t swim. He could only wade, adrift bits of seaweed tickling his feet.

He’d like Naples. He deserved to see it. He deserved so much. “Yes,” Wonshik said thickly. “I loved it there.”

Without saying anything more, Hongbin looked away and bent to the floor, picking up the larger pieces of debris, and Wonshik opened the backdoor and fled into the familiar darkness of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling soft and just wanted to give a thank you to all the people who've been supporting this story, who wait patiently and don't lose interest in the long breaks I take to write updates. I really appreciate it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. i didn't think this was going to take me half a year to get out. welp. i don't even have any excuses. but i hope y'all enjoy this chapter and that the next one doesn't take me another six months to get out.

This was Jaehwan’s second time being brought to the vampires’ home, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember the exact way to get there. He could recognize good warding when he saw it. Or rather, when it was bamboozling him into thinking no, he had never seen that distinct rock before, that crooked tree. If the vampires, for whatever reason, one night decided to not return to them, Jaehwan was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to track them back here in turn. 

The thought made him suddenly uneasy, heart thumping, and Sanghyuk, mistaking it for nervousness, held him a little tighter. Jaehwan tucked his face against Sanghyuk’s shoulder, clinging to his warmth, as they brushed past shrubbery and outreaching ferns, heading down into the absolute, pressing darkness of the tunnels. When Sanghyuk put Jaehwan down, he tottered a little on the uneven stones once his feet hit them. Jaehwan put his hands out carefully, blindly, fingertips finding Sanghyuk and pressing against him for balance. It was odd, to have his eyes wide open, and be able to see nothing. 

Sanghyuk shifted beside him, coming closer, and when he kissed Jaehwan’s mouth quickly, Jaehwan gave a little squeak of surprise. Jaehwan could hear Sanghyuk chuckling lowly, and then the door was creaking open. Warm light from within the vampires’ home spilled out, catching on the craggy bricks of the tunnel, gleaming off the water pools gathered on the floor, illuminating the sharp planes of Sanghyuk’s smiling face, his large hand on the door knob. 

“In you go,” Sanghyuk murmured, and Jaehwan looked away from him to move inside, feeling himself blush.

The house was lowly lit, and it was like stepping into a memory, or perhaps a fresh dream. Jaehwan supposed it would begin to feel more like a real place, solid and ordinary, the more he visited. Right now it was all just a haze of remembered adrenaline and blood rushing in his veins.

Jaehwan took three long strides so he could brace his hands on the polished wood balustrade, gazing down curiously onto the living room. The large window panes were darkened, golden diffused light coming from the chandelier and raining out. Below the dark wood floors stretched out, the large white rug like an island at the center, the only thing keeping the edges of the black leather sofas from fading into the flooring to Jaehwan’s human’s eyes. As he came into view, the soft conversation from below ceased, the occupants of the living room falling silent to instead look up.

Sanghyuk closed the front door, and the sound of it latching echoed in the large chamber of the room. Jaehwan shivered a little, and not just from the temperature. Sanghyuk was there anyway, pressing against his side, one hand bracing against Jaehwan’s lower back. With his other hand he waved at the pair down below.

“Hello dears,” Hakyeon called up, his voice warmer than the air, smiling in greeting. Taekwoon simply peered up at them, blinking slowly. If Hakyeon was the sun, Taekwoon was the moon, their faces upturned in eerie symmetry. “Take off your shoes on the landing, please.”

Jaehwan‘s head snapped down to look at his feet, the dampness and mud, pine needles sticking to the bottoms. “Oh,” he said softly, realizing he’d already smeared dirt on some of the landing. He toed his sneakers off readily and put them aside, glancing at Sanghyuk sheepishly. Sanghyuk had tracked mud in as well, his boots even worse; he’d done the majority of the walking once they’d gone into the forest proper. 

Jaehwan left Sanghyuk unlacing his boots on the landing, coming shakily down the stairs. It still wasn’t always easy, entering into confined spaces with vampires, especially when there was so much foreign magic layered around him right now, his body able to tell he was trapped underground. He stopped with his socked toes brushing the white fur rug, a bit unsure. 

Hakyeon, who’d been lounging on the armchair, uncurled in a smooth movement, standing and beckoning Jaehwan forward languidly. Taekwoon didn’t stand, stayed on the couch with his legs tucked up under him as if he were a cat much smaller than he truly was, but he gave Jaehwan the barest hint of an encouraging smile. So Jaehwan came forward, feeling the plushness of the rug give under his weight. He didn’t sit, stayed standing with the coffee table between himself and the two vampires. His heart was going fast, and he knew everyone else could hear it. It was a surprisingly embarrassing and intimate detail to have laid so bare. 

Hakyeon surveyed him with bright eyes. “How’s Hongbin?” he asked, and Jaehwan could tell he was trying to be friendly, trying to be casual. He appreciated the effort, but it was hard to see Hakyeon as a benign host. He was too obviously dangerous, no matter how lovely he was, how gentle his speech. 

“He’s grumpy,” Jaehwan said honestly. Hongbin’s shitty mood, his sharp remarks, had definitely soothed some of Jaehwan’s worry. He’d been terrified Hongbin was going to come out of the glamouring a vegetable, or maybe something worse. Perhaps, though, he shouldn’t have doubted Wonshik. “So, the usual.”

“And you?” Taekwoon asked, his voice high and hopelessly vulnerable. Jaehwan looked away from Hakyeon, from his cinched up grace and ethereal beauty, to Taekwoon. Taekwoon, who still appeared to Jaehwan as a mirage of something he once knew, off just enough to be unnerving, and familiar enough to draw him in anyway. “Are you— alright?”

Jaehwan’s stomach twisted, his heart aching. “Yes,” he said, very softly, an offering. He held Taekwoon’s gaze for seconds that stretched on. It was a moment repeated many times over as many years. Jaehwan and Taekwoon, looking at one another, across dusty roads, over scratched tabletops, under the sun and under the stars. Silences and gazes heavy with promise and longing, tree branches laden with fruit going overripe. 

Jaehwan had waited for years. He’d waited long enough. And it was hard, because branded into Jaehwan’s mind was the stricken look on Taekwoon’s face, when he’d come into the library and seen his neck marked by Sanghyuk’s teeth. 

What Jaehwan had told Sanghyuk still held true. _Not in this life_. They weren’t meant to be. But that didn’t make the fruit rotting at their feet any less painful.

Jaehwan wanted to apologize for hurting Taekwoon. It had probably been inevitable, but it could have been— lessened, perhaps. But instead he quietly asked, “And— you? Are you alright, Taekwoon?”

Taekwoon swallowed, and he broke eye contact, gaze going off to Jaehwan’s left, unfocused. “Yes,” he murmured. It felt like a shut door. One that was all too familiar to Jaehwan. “I’m fine.”

Jaehwan felt himself nod automatically, knowing there was some part of himself that Taekwoon just kept locked away, hidden and protected. He could feel when he was skirting the edges, could feel Taekwoon withdraw. It was familiar as the buzzing in Jaehwan’s fingertips, at this point.

A touch fell gently on Jaehwan’s upper arm, and Jaehwan jumped a little, snapping to see Sanghyuk was beside him. He may have been standing there for far longer than Jaehwan realized. “Breathe, Jae,” Sanghyuk murmured, smiling gently, and Jaehwan took an automatic inhale that eased some of the tension in his shoulders. “Your heart’s going really fast.”

Jaehwan gestured around vaguely. “Vampires,” he said, and Sanghyuk’s smile grew into a sharp grin. The sight of it reminded Jaehwan— “Oh, Hakyeon,” Jaehwan said, shoving his hand in his coat pocket and coming out with a folded slip of paper. He held it out, across the coffee table, and Hakyeon took it with nothing more than a pleasant quirked brow. “It’s the spell— stuff. That your maker wanted.”

Hakyeon didn’t unfold the paper to inspect it. Maybe he wanted to give a show of good faith. “Thank you,” he said, prim. “I’ll—” He stopped midway through moving to put the paper on the table, having realized it would probably get lost amidst the sketches and other paraphernalia scattered across the coffee table. For a brief moment he fluttered, uselessly, as he also came to the realization he was wearing nothing but a soft sleep shirt and pajama pants that had no pockets. “”I’ll give it to him,” he finally said lamely, letting his hand fall down to his side with the paper still clutched in his fingers. 

Taekwoon tucked his face down, but the movement made Jaehwan look at him, and in doing so he could see the curve of Taekwoon’s smile. It made Jaehwan feel a bit odd. Not in a bad way. It just— was.

“Thank you,” Jaehwan said, automatic, and he could feel the ensuing silence tipping awkwardly. He cast around for something to say, and his attention fell again to the coffee table, the sketches strewn there, with their bold ink strokes in black and red. “You draw?”

Hakyeon’s head tilted to one side, slow, like it was gradually getting heavier. His hair moved softly over his forehead with the action. “What made you assume it was me?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“I— I just—” Jaehwan said, blushing a little. “You and Taekwoon were the only ones here— and Taekwoon draws like shit.”

Taekwoon’s soft gasp of indignation was drowned out by Hakyeon’s sudden laughter, bright and blinding. And wasn’t that an odd way to describe anything to do with a vampire, but Hakyeon’s laugh, under the grating vampire magic, was vibrant and crystal clear, like sunlight glimmering off a creek. Jaehwan watched him bring a hand up to cover his mouth, but his crinkled eyes still showed. 

“Yes,” Hakyeon said, voice filled with mirth, “they’re mine.” His hand lowered enough to bare his smile, his teeth all blunt, and oh, he _was_ beautiful. Incandescently so, really. In a way that Jaehwan wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before, and Jaehwan had seen some beautiful people. Hongbin was beautiful. Maybe when he was human, Hakyeon had been beautiful the way Hongbin was. But now, as something more than flesh and blood, a creature of magic and darkness, Hakyeon was like a waking dream.

Judging by the way Taekwoon was staring up at Hakyeon’s smiling face, he could see it too.

“It’s for the opening party,” Sanghyuk explained, and when Jaehwan looked up at him, he could see Hakyeon’s amusement reflected on Sanghyuk’s face. “Clothing ideas.”

That made Jaehwan look a little harder at the drawings, and he wondered who was going to be wearing what— if any of them were to Hakyeon’s liking at all. Jaehwan didn’t own anything like what he was seeing sketched out, and nor did he own a suit. “Ah,” he said softly, gently twisting his fingers into the sleeve of Sanghyuk’s jacket. 

Sanghyuk glanced at him, saw what he was trying to communicate, and echoed, “Ah.” He looked back at Hakyeon, his amusement turning a bit sardonic. “I was already thinking this, but Jaehwan brought it up— he should come to the opening party, Hakyeon.”

The atmosphere of the room immediately cooled, growing starkly somber. Hakyeon gripped the folded slip of paper in both hands, face downturned as he contemplated it, and then he slowly sank down, sitting on the edge of the arm chair once more. “It won’t be safe,” Hakyeon said softly. His eyes were shining obsidian when he looked back at them, hard. “There’s no margin for error. I don’t even want Taekwoon going, but Kyungsoo ordered it. He did not order Jaehwan. I do not know why you would be keen to bring him to such a place.”

Jaehwan felt Sanghyuk stiffen, perhaps at the implication that Sanghyuk wasn’t looking after him the way he should be. Which seemed a bit unfair. “I wanted to go,” Jaehwan said, a bit firmer than he maybe meant to.

Taekwoon made a noise under his breath, though he wasn’t looking at Jaehwan, was instead picking at a hole in his jeans, tugging the threads looser. It hadn’t been a flattering noise. Jaehwan resisted the impulse to stick his tongue out at him. Taekwoon wouldn’t even see it.

“He wanted to go,” Sanghyuk echoed, and then added, “and once he mentioned it, I realized he will probably be expected to go. You know why.”

Jaehwan fought the impulse to frown in confusion, keeping his face as neutral as he could. _He_ didn’t know why he was expected to go, but he had some guesses. Sanghyuk had claimed him, whatever that meant, and it would possibly be odd, for him to have made that declaration, and then for Jaehwan to not appear at his side at such a public event. Or maybe it was expected as a show of good faith. _Hello, vampire allies, I mean you no harm_.

Hakyeon sighed, the corners of his mouth growing pinched. “Fine. You know very well I can’t give you orders about this,” he said, clipped. “If you were seeking permission, this is it.”

Jaehwan refrained from sighing in relief. Maybe later he’d be nervous, or excited, but now was not the moment.

“He’ll need to borrow a pair of your slacks,” Sanghyuk said, and Hakyeon’s mouth grew even more pinched, but he nodded curtly. When Sanghyuk spoke again, the tenseness had left him, and he said softly, “Thank you, Hakyeon.” Hakyeon simply sighed again, and Sanghyuk gently took Jaehwan by the hand and murmured, “Come on— I need to talk to you.”

Jaehwan let himself be pulled, this time to a hallway he had never gone down. He looked behind himself for a flash, and Hakyeon met his eyes and inclined his head, while Taekwoon still stubbornly refused to even glance his way. Jaehwan’s stomach twisted unpleasantly, just a little. But then he was facing forward again. He squeezed Sanghyuk’s hand, finding comfort when Sanghyuk squeezed back, turning a little to give Jaehwan a small smile. 

“The bedrooms are along here,” Sanghyuk said, gesturing with his free hand down the long, lowly lit hallway. The black wood floors stretched on and on, juxtaposed to crisp white walls. Along one side were black doors, spaced evenly apart, on the other were what appeared to be balcony doors, white, their panes darkened as if they looked out onto the blackest of nights.

“Where do these doors go?” Jaehwan asked, touching one of the panes and leaving a smudge on the glass. He was trying to hide the fact that he’d been a bit caught off guard to be told they were going towards the bedrooms. Presumably, they were going to Sanghyuk’s. Jaehwan would have thought they’d return to the library, but perhaps after what had happened there last time, Sanghyuk though Jaehwan would have difficulty focusing there.

He couldn’t imagine, really, being any less distracted in Sanghyuk’s bedroom.

Sanghyuk grinned. “They don’t go anywhere; they don’t even open. They’re just for show,” he said, and Jaehwan snorted. Sanghyuk pulled him along, his feet silent on the wooden floor, while Jaehwan’s made soft shuffling sounds. “This is Taekwoon’s room,” Sanghyuk said, as they passed a door that was slightly cracked. The room inside was dark, so Jaehwan could only see a flash of pale blue carpeting from within before he was tugged further down the hall. “And this— this is my room.”

Jaehwan had been expecting it, but his heart still skipped a beat when Sanghyuk pulled the door open and flicked the lights inside on. It skipped another beat when Sanghyuk put a hand on his lower back and nudged him forward. Going into Sanghyuk’s room made Jaehwan feel nervous in a silly, juvenile sort of way. All of which went flying out the window the moment he actually _stepped_ into Sanghyuk’s room, and the first thing he saw was his own reflection.

“Ah,” Jaehwan said, ducking his face down and turning away, covering his eyes with his hands for good measure. He’d seen— a bed, a bed with dark sheets, and bookshelves crammed full, and a wall of floor to ceiling mirrors, him and Sanghyuk reflected, before he’d covered his eyes. 

There was the sound of the bedroom door closing, and then Sanghyuk approached to gently touch Jaehwan’s arm. “Jaehwan?” he asked, lightly concerned, and Jaehwan peeked through his fingers, seeing nothing but Sanghyuk’s socked feet.

“I can’t look in mirrors,” Jaehwan said in explanation, the words a little muffled behind his hands. “They break if I’m not careful. My magic is too loose and they’re conduits.”

Sanghyuk made a noise of realization. His fingertips on Jaehwan’s arm pushed gently, turning Jaehwan so his back was to the mirrored wall. “It’s just the one wall,” he said, and there was something amused in his voice. “Basically.”

Jaehwan let his hands drop so he could squint a glare up at Sanghyuk’s handsome face. The wall he had Jaehwan faced to now was the one with shelves from one corner to the other, laden with books of all variations. “Basically,” Jaehwan echoed, a bit sarcastic but also a bit curious as to what the fuck that meant. 

Sanghyuk’s eyes flickered up, and then settled back on Jaehwan, the corner of his mouth definitely quirking up into a smirk. Jaehwan, because he was an idiot, really, mimicked the motion, looking up and then squeaking in mild horror and looking away again.

“Why do you have mirrors on your ceiling,” he gasped, putting his hand above his eyebrows so as to act as a visor. He did not want to shatter the wall of mirrors, that would be an inconvenience, but _ceiling_ mirrors could potentially decapitate someone if they broke. “I didn’t think vanity was your vice.” 

“What did you think my vice was?” Sanghyuk asked gamely, grinning down at Jaehwan’s reproving look. “Pretty boys with silver hair?” He plucked at Jaehwan’s sleeve, tugging his hand away from his face. Jaehwan stared very determinately at Sanghyuk’s eyes; he didn’t want his own gaze accidentally wandering. “Will they break if you see them in your peripheral?”

“No,” Jaehwan said, knowing this well. “They only break when I’m looking at myself. And it doesn’t always happen, I just— try to be safe.”

Sanghyuk hummed, stepping back, moving around Jaehwan, holding eye contact with Jaehwan as he did. “So look at me,” he murmured lowly, still smirking a little as he watched Jaehwan turn to keep him in sight. Jaehwan could see Sanghyuk’s reflection, behind the real thing, on the other side of the bed, piled high with pillows, and the long stretch of reflected bookshelves. Sanghyuk stopped moving before he’d gone too far, before Jaehwan might accidentally see himself reflected too. 

The silly nervous feeling was back. Sanghyuk was looking at him in a way that didn’t help.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Jaehwan said, feeling his heart fluttering in his chest. 

Sanghyuk tilted his head, in an odd sort of echo of Hakyeon earlier. “About why I have all the mirrors?” he asked, and when Jaehwan nodded, Sanghyuk’s smirk broke into a wicked grin. “I like watching myself having sex.”

Jaehwan felt like he’d missed a stair, his stomach swooping. Heat came up to his cheeks so rapidly he was surprised steam didn’t come off his skin. “Oh,” he said, and was pleased when it only came out mildly strangled. Wholly without volition his gaze drifted to Sanghyuk’s reflection, and Sanghyuk turned enough so that he was glancing over his shoulder, able to meet Jaehwan’s eyes in the mirror. He was still grinning. Jaehwan swallowed, heat lingering on his face. 

He could see the appeal. He supposed. Even if his magic wasn’t an issue, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get over the mortification. 

Sanghyuk’s grin faded a little, though the amusement still remained, sparkling in his eyes. “You not being able to look in mirrors certainly dampens some of my plans,” he murmured. 

“I can look at you,” Jaehwan reminded him, needlessly considering he was looking at Sanghyuk in the mirror right now, their eyes locked. And it was such an odd sensation, to have Sanghyuk so close to him physically, while both of them were staring at one another reflected in the opposite wall.

“Mm,” Sanghyuk said in acknowledgment. His voice dropped huskily. “But I wanted you to look at yourself, while I’m fucking you.”

Jaehwan inhaled sharply, the sound louder than he anticipated it would be. 

Sanghyuk turned from the mirror, finally, facing Jaehwan once more, brow creased a little, and it meant Jaehwan, too, could meet his eyes directly. “Was that too much?” Sanghyuk asked, swaying nearer and keeping his voice low. They were close enough that if Jaehwan let himself lean forward, their chests would meet. “We haven’t talked about it, I know.”

Jaehwan was glad his hoodie was several sizes too large, came down to his thighs, hiding the fact that he was growing hard in his jeans. “We haven’t,” he agreed, turning his face down into the plushness of his scarf and then looking up through his lashes coyly. “But you’ve been thinking about it.”

“You haven’t?” Sanghyuk countered, not a trace of shame anywhere on him. 

The scarf couldn’t hide Jaehwan’s intensifying blush. “I have,” he admitted softly. Through the closed bedroom door, there was the vague murmuring of voices. Hakyeon and Taekwoon were here, they were near, Jaehwan remembered. This privacy was very fragile. He cleared his throat, shifting a little, trying to make these stiff fucking jeans not quite so painful on tender regions. “Is this why you brought me here tonight? To talk about deflowering me in your admittedly large and comfortable looking bed?”

Sanghyuk looked towards said bed, smiling a little ruefully. “No,” he said, gusting out a sigh. He shook his head lightly, as if to clear it. “There’s— I had a thought.” Sanghyuk took a step towards the nearest bookshelf, hand coming up as if to grab a book, and then dropping as he apparently dismissed the idea. “I spent a lot of the day reading up on magic, but I doubt I discovered anything you don’t already know, so I don’t need to directly show you— I just had an idea.” 

Jaehwan’s chest felt warm, touched that Sanghyuk had fought against the sun’s compulsion to search for solutions for him. It was a little bittersweet, though. “Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan whispered, and Sanghyuk shook his head again at Jaehwan’s tone. “I appreciate it, but—”

“Please,” Sanghyuk said, placing his large, warm hands on Jaehwan’s shoulders, squeezing lightly, “please, Jaehwan, just listen. I can’t promise brilliance, or even anything you haven’t already thought of and dismissed— but just listen to me for a few minutes.” 

Melancholy creeped in, chasing away the sweet playful air that had been in the room before. Jaehwan smiled against the sadness, and it was a small, wobbly thing, hard fought for. He hated that glimmer of hope, the feeling of maybe, _maybe_ — it was always for nothing. And it hurt every time. But Jaehwan still smiled gently and murmured, “Alright. Tell me.”

Sanghyuk could sense his dip in mood, Jaehwan rather thought, because he let his hands slip from Jaehwan’s shoulders, down his arms, until they were holding hands. Jaehwan, whose hands were perpetually cold, couldn’t help but feel just a little soothed. “I didn’t— I think finding a solution to the sunlight spell is possible, maybe, but I think it could take a lot of time, take experts that we will have to locate and meet,” Sanghyuk said slowly, carefully, like he was picking through the thoughts, and Jaehwan wanted to jump in, interrupt that there was no one, and they had no time. But he held his tongue, even though anxiety was beginning to settle in his gut. “So that made me think— we need to buy you time.”

That hadn’t exactly been what Jaehwan was expecting. He felt his brow creasing. “Buy me time?” he echoed.

“Yes, buy you the time we need to find a permanent solution. Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk’s hands around his tightened, a little. His eyes darted to the bookshelves again before coming back to settle on Jaehwan’s face, where they flickered over his features like he was trying to commit him to memory. “The spell is eating you alive, essentially— it’s taking up more energy than your body can adequately produce to sustain it, and eventually you won’t be left with enough for your body to continue to function. And you’ll die. Did I understand this correctly?”

“Yes,” Jaehwan said, mind running in quick flashes, trying to beat Sanghyuk to whatever finish line he was running towards. “But Sanghyuk— I’ve thought of this. I can’t give the spell more energy— this is why I can’t go into the sun anymore. As soon as sunlight hits me, even a little, the spell scrambles for it, absorbing the energy, because it’s fucking desperate, and my body can’t take the load.” 

Sanghyuk’s mouth opened, then closed. He was frowning now, too, looking over Jaehwan’s shoulder, to the bed, or the mirrors on the wall maybe. Jaehwan waited, watched Sanghyuk chewing the inside of his bottom lip. Finally Sanghyuk said slowly, “The spell— it takes your energy, your human energy, the energy you need for your magic and your— your body to run— and it feeds itself to keep alive.” Jaehwan nodded, and Sanghyuk echoed the movement, looking back at him with an odd sort of determination. “It reacts the same to sunlight, because as you said, it’s desperate, it’s just grasping at whatever it can. But Jaehwan, I don’t think the issue with sunlight energy is that the spell consumes more than can fit in your frame, and you have a power overload, so much as it is the wrong kind of energy. Your human body isn’t meant to have sunlight energy inside it. But the spell doesn’t _need_ sunlight energy specifically. It just needs any kind of energy. So why not give it some that you are compatible with as well?”

Jaehwan wanted to immediately reply, but found he had nothing to say, not right away. He fell silent, thinking. Sanghyuk was right about the sunlight energy being incompatible with his human body. But so was any other energy. Living things— they all gave off energy, from trees to bugs to elephants to everything in between. In a lot of spellwork, the use of plant or animal matter was to use their energy— spells weren’t usually picky, and a great many things could be used to fuel a spell, it was true. The problem was, in all those cases, the spell remained external, and any filtering was not done within the caster’s own body. Maybe Jaehwan could cobble together some kind of system, something where he was able to syphon energy from various points of nature, convert it into human energy, and put that back into his own body. 

“I’d have to— make another spell,” he said haltingly, brain already trying to come up with the pieces he’d need, the arduous process of it. He wasn’t sure he had the skill for this. “I’d— I’d have to figure out what we can use and how to fit it together—”

“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said a bit loudly, and Jaehwan realized he’d begun to breathe too quickly, his heart pounding anew. He forced his thoughts to quiet, to focus on breathing evenly, on the feeling of Sanghyuk’s hands in his. More softly, Sanghyuk said again, “Jaehwan.” There was something in his expression Jaehwan couldn’t read, something locked down and hard. “Hummingbird. Jae. I think— I think you should try drinking blood. Human blood.”

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over Jaehwan, and before he had realized it he’d jerkily taken a step back, wrenching his hands from Sanghyuk’s. “No,” he said, surprised by the loudness of his own voice, the anger surging in himself. “ _No_.”

Sanghyuk did not match his ferocity. He let Jaehwan put space between them, remained by the bookshelves, hands up in a soothing gesture. “It could work,” Sanghyuk said, and the set of his mouth was grim. “You know it, Jaehwan.”

Jaehwan raised a hand, shakily pointing at the myriad books behind Sanghyuk, set up in their tidy lines. “You need to read those again, if you think that’s a good idea,” he spat. “Even I know about the history of what happened to people who did that in the past—”

“All those sorcerers killed others,” Sanghyuk interrupted, tone like cool stone where Jaehwan was all sparks. This was a dangerous room right now, and Jaehwan tried to reel himself in, not wanting to rain blades of glass down on them. “And they drank blood for themselves, for the power.”

Jaehwan gulped down air, though all he wanted to do was scream. “We don’t know if that matters,” he said eventually, maintaining an even volume. Sanghyuk looked as if he might argue, but Jaehwan went on. “We don’t. Magic is so— iffy, and there’s so much of it inside me. And blood magic is what fucking got me here.” More softly, he added, “I don’t want to be a demon, Sanghyuk.” The idea terrified him. And it was easier, for sorcerers to warp, for their energy to rot, because there was so much of it, and it was so— high. So potent. Jaehwan did not want to go down that road.

Slowly, Sanghyuk approached him, and Jaehwan stiffened, for once not particularly wanting Sanghyuk to touch him. For his part, Sanghyuk didn’t reach out for him, simply stopped beside him and motioned to the bookshelves as Jaehwan had done before. “I have read those,” he said, very quietly. “I’ve read them all. And I can tell you every sorcerer recorded in those pages that drank human blood and turned into demons for it— they all murdered at least one person for the blood, Jaehwan. And they all, without exception, were drinking it because they wanted to be stronger.” He brought his hand back in, and, very carefully, giving Jaehwan every chance to step away, cupped Jaehwan’s cheek. “Those books also say magic is, largely, in the end, about intent,” he whispered. He leaned down, his forehead touching Jaehwan’s, and Jaehwan felt himself blinking back tears. “You haven’t got an unkind bone in your body, Jaehwan. You’d be drinking blood, given willingly from our feeders, to try and save your own life. Nothing more.”

A tear fell down Jaehwan’s cheek. He hated this. He hated it because it could work. It could. It could buy them enough time to maybe find a solution to the sunlight spell. Or simply extend his life enough so that he wasn’t dying before his twenty-third birthday. 

But he was so frightened. 

“You know what this could do to me,” he whispered, the words catching in his throat. The consumption of his mind, the loss of his self, mindless, vicious madness. “You know what I could become.”

“I do, but— I wouldn’t be suggesting this, if I thought it was a genuine threat,” Sanghyuk said, his breath ghosting over Jaehwan’s face. “I don’t think you’ll become a demon, Jaehwan. I don’t want that fate for you. And I— I’m pretty sure if you did begin to warp, I’d be able to smell it on you, taste it in you, before it could grab hold.”

It didn’t always work like that, Jaehwan knew. Sometimes it was a metamorphosis. Sometimes it was an explosion. But fuck, Jaehwan wanted to believe it. 

“Show me,” he murmured, turning his face away from Sanghyuk’s palm on his cheek. “Show me those books— show me everything you found on blood consumption for spellwork.”

And Sanghyuk, after a pause, obliged.

——

Hakyeon sat silently, turning the folded slip of paper over, and over, in his hands, the edges giving slightly under his fingertips. Thin paper, cheap, fibers still visible in spots. He contemplated it with more focus than necessary, because he wasn’t ready to think about anything else just yet. There was so much to go over, so much to talk about— Jaehwan coming to the party brought new hurdles, and Hakyeon still needed to tell Taekwoon that the nest members would be there as well, that they might have a connection to Jisoo’s death— it was so vital, so important, but it wasn’t something to be just be brought out lightly and with a flourish. He was, he realized, frightened of how Taekwoon would react. He couldn’t put it off for long, Taekwoon had to be told before the party itself. 

But it could be put off for now.

“Jaehwan has to go to the opening party because he’s been claimed,” Taekwoon said, and even though it was a barely-there whisper, it almost startled Hakyeon. He looked at Taekwoon, sitting on the adjacent couch, picking at the fraying patches on his jeans. “It would be suspicious of him not to go, since he’s Sanghyuk’s. And Sanghyuk is yours.”

The words weren’t quite a statement, but neither were they fully a question, and either way, Taekwoon didn’t address them to Hakyeon. But Hakyeon answered him. “Yes,” he murmured. “Jaehwan being— claimed, played such a pivotal role in the meeting, it is unlikely that Chanyeol or Kyungsoo will forget it very soon.”

Taekwoon didn’t respond, just kept picking at his poor jeans. 

The silence between them lengthened, oddly stilted, awkward. Hakyeon could, ever so faintly, hear the murmurings of conversation from further within the house. Jaehwan’s presence, or rather, his existence nearby, weighed down on them. 

Even more than that, the knowledge that he was cloistered away with Sanghyuk, was clearly a swirling storm behind Taekwoon’s eyes. And Hakyeon wanted to help him, wanted to comfort him. Because Taekwoon was clearly hurting.

Hakyeon, too, was hurting. And that was part of the problem.

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon murmured, and Taekwoon glanced up at him, gaze refocusing with a blink. If Hakyeon’s heart had still been beating, it would have stuttered then. “ _Are_ you alright, Taekwoon?”

Taekwoon looked at him for a long beat, the span of two slow blinks, as if he was assessing Hakyeon. Then he looked away, at the far wall, and Hakyeon wondered if he was about to be brushed off. Just as Jaehwan had been. But then Taekwoon, very quietly, said, “It hurts.” His face downturned, and he resumed picking at his fraying jeans, long fingers plucking off strands to bare portions of his knees, his thighs. “Seeing— seeing him and knowing he’s with Sanghyuk, I— it hurts. But I think it will stop hurting, with time.” He paused, flicking debris onto the carpet, while Hakyeon processed his words. He hadn’t really expected Taekwoon to say anything, and now that he had, he wasn’t sure what to say in response. It was such an odd predicament to be in, for him. He wanted to comfort Taekwoon, but didn’t want to be misconstrued as trying to lead Taekwoon away from Jaehwan and into his own arms. Which he wanted to happen. He did want that. But he didn’t want to be manipulative. “You don’t get jealous?”

Hakyeon, navigating one minefield already, now found himself in another. “Jealous?” he echoed, forcefully neutral.

“Sanghyuk,” Taekwoon said by way of explanation, meeting Hakyeon’s gaze once more, having picked his jeans to proper tatters. “He’s yours”

Hakyeon fought not to let his relief show on his face. Admitting to being jealous of Jaehwan would have been— an embarrassment of a sort Hakyeon did not relish facing, because he knew it was stupid. How foolish was he, that he was covetous of a dying human that been alive perhaps two decades. All because of the way Taekwoon said his name, the way he looked at him, as if he were seeing a sunset. No, he did not want to confess to that.

“Sanghyuk is mine,” Hakyeon said, smiling just a little. “Him being with Jaehwan doesn’t mean his love for me has vanished. Remember? You can love more than one person.”

Taekwoon’s eyes were unwavering on Hakyeon’s, and they seemed to soften, just a little, the longer they held contact. Hakyeon, suddenly, felt very warm, and he fought down the urge to fidget under Taekwoon’s gaze. And then Taekwoon was looking at the far wall again, back to giving nothing away. “I understand that a bit more now, I think,” Taekwoon said softly, and Hakyeon ached for him. 

The warding on their home flared up for the barest moment of warning before the front door swung open, and then shut. Taekwoon startled; Hakyeon did not. 

“Wonshik,” Hakyeon called, turning bodily so he was facing the loft and staircase but not bothering to stand. “Your shoes—”

Wonshik was already at the base of the stairs, shoes pointedly absent. “I know, Hakyeon,” he muttered, but with no real venom. He looked unusually drawn, shoulders rounded and hands shoved into his pockets. 

“How was Hongbin?” Taekwoon asked, his voice high and childlike. Hakyeon could no longer see his face, just the back of his head, that little bit of skin behind his ear. But Taekwoon had scooted to the edge of his seat in anticipation, his long legs curled, ready to stand. Nervous, frightened. 

“He’s—” Wonshik started, then stopped, rubbing at the back of his neck, clearly discomfited. Slowly, Wonshik wandered nearer to them, hand still resting on the back of his neck in apparent thought. He stopped short of the edge of the rug. “He’s unhurt, but he is not happy. The glamour left him— a bit disoriented and tired.” There was something unsaid, it rested in the twisted curve of Wonshik’s mouth, in the hitch of his brow, but Hakyeon did not know what.

“He will be alright,” Hakyeon said firmly, for Wonshik’s benefit as much as Taekwoon’s. He knew Taekwoon was worried because Hongbin was his family, but Wonshik— Wonshik was probably feeling guilty. He was so soft, so kind. And he would have hated having to do this, even if he had been ordered. “He _will_.”

Taekwoon leaned back, just a little, just enough so he wasn’t quite such a tightly coiled spring. He gave Hakyeon a small, tremulous smile. “Hongbin really is a cactus of a person, as you call him,” he whispered. “He’s— tough isn’t the right word. Strong, maybe. Persistent. And I know— he won’t— doesn’t— remember what happened— and maybe that’s better. That night, the night Jaehwan cast the spell, was— I can’t say it was the worst night of my life, all things considered, but it was possibly Hongbin’s worst night. It was certainly Jaehwan’s.” His smile twisted, until it wasn’t much of a smile at all. “Maybe it is good, he no longer remembers. Even if it comes at a bit of a cost now.”

It probably was better. Hakyeon could see the way those events haunted Taekwoon. But that didn’t make what they’d done to Hongbin _right_.

He wasn’t going to say that though, not in front of Wonshik. Wonshik, who had not moved as Taekwoon spoke, who hadn’t seemed to even hear him. 

“Wonshik?” Hakyeon said softly, and Wonshik blinked, coming out of his reverie a bit. “What is it?”

Wonshik’s eyes flickered to Taekwoon, and Hakyeon scolded himself internally. Of course Wonshik would not want to talk, not with Taekwoon present. They were still nearly strangers in every respect that mattered. Perhaps he should excuse himself, speak to Wonshik privately, but he did not want Taekwoon to think they were hiding things from him—

“Taekwoon,” Wonshik rumbled, “when you were— what did you do, for a job?”

That had not been what Hakyeon was expecting, and it seemed to catch Taekwoon off guard as well. 

“Nothing important,” Taekwoon said slowly, one brow drawn up in confusion. When Wonshik continued to stare at him, expectant, waiting, Taekwoon clarified, “I was a barista.” Hakyeon hadn’t known that, and it was a little odd to consider the image. Taekwoon pressing grounds, wiping tables, drawing designs in milk foam. Such an ordinary boy he would have seemed to be. 

Wonshik’s expression was thoughtful, though probably not with the same sort of thoughts Hakyeon was having. “How much of the household income would you say you contributed?” he asked, and where Taekwoon continued to look bemused, Hakyeon could guess well enough where this conversation was going.

“Well— half? Or so,” Taekwoon said, surprisingly candid. “Hongbin works, at a grocery, and together we could generally make ends meet, with a bit of help from Jaehwan’s savings.” Hakyeon raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Taekwoon noticed so he added, “When Jae’s parents died they left him everything; he has no other close relatives. It wasn’t— a lot, but it was enough that we’ve been able to peck at it, for the last few years.” He paused, hunching down a little before looking up at Wonshik through his lashes. “They— they’re struggling, aren’t they?”

Wonshik didn’t say one way or another, his expression an unchanging mask. “How long will Jaehwan’s savings last them, with your income cut off?” 

Another pause, as Taekwoon considered the question. It was clear that in all the chaos of his turning and everything that followed, he had forgotten about some of the more mundane concerns of his human life. Hakyeon as well had been negligent. “They’ll last probably about as long as Jaehwan himself will,” Taekwoon said slowly, pain laced through it, along with concern. He touch his fingertips to his bottom lip in thought, fingernails too short to chew on. “Wonshik, did Hongbin tell you—”

“No,” Wonshik said, cutting Taekwoon off sharply. “He’d be pissed off if he knew I knew. It just— is something I noticed.”

Hakyeon wondered what that meant. Had Wonshik been paying particularly close attention, or had it been obvious that they were already struggling. Probably the former. If Jaehwan had given any indication they were in trouble, Sanghyuk would have picked up on it and immediately brought it to Hakyeon. Or simply sorted it directly. “We could give them money,” Hakyeon said. It wasn’t charity, it was simply another aspect of caring for Taekwoon. “It wouldn’t be an issue at all. If I hadn’t been so distracted these last few days and had realized, I probably would have set up something for them myself already.” Taekwoon blinked at him, seemingly unusually surprised.

“Hongbin won’t take our money,” Wonshik said, with a finality that suggested he had already brought it up with Hongbin and been vehemently shot down. Except Wonshik had already said Hongbin didn’t even know Wonshik was aware of the situation. Wonshik’s pessimism on the subject therefore was simply a result of the dealings he’d had with Hongbin thus far. Which really didn’t bode well. 

“He might, if it was— was what I used to make, and not more,” Taekwoon said slowly, looking between Hakyeon and Wonshik like he was having difficulty processing the conversation. Hakyeon imagined it must feel surreal to be talking about the finances of his human life here, with them, in this place with his new body. “Or if we said it was from me. Or both.”

Wonshik was scowling now, chewing his bottom lip harshly. It was clear he was not convinced. Truthfully, Hakyeon wasn’t either, given what he knew about Hongbin.

“What about— Jaehwan?” Hakyeon asked, voice dipping when he said Jaehwan’s name, because he did not want Sanghyuk to potentially hear him. “We don’t have to give the money to Hongbin, we could potentially simply keep topping up Jaehwan’s savings account.”

“Hongbin would hate that too,” Wonshik said immediately, and Hakyeon had to fight not to huff out an exasperated sigh.

“We do not have to tell him, if you believe it will be such a problem. And if he finds out—” Hakyeon raised his voice a little, because it looked as if Wonshik was going to argue. “Then he will be angry, but he is angry anyway, the difference is if we do this, he will be angry and well fed, as opposed to angry and starving, or potentially homeless. Which seems the more agreeable option to me.” He was perhaps being a little harsh, but he was already so tired, and there was a great deal of the night left ahead of him, and things he needed to do. Phone calls to make, places to go, people to meet. This— there was no perfect solution, so they would have to make do.

“I have access to Jaehwan’s savings account,” Taekwoon said, very softly. The slumped line of his shoulders was defeated, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll— we’ll work it out. I can’t let them starve. If we have to go behind Hongbin’s back a little to make sure they stay secure, then— we will.” Even more softly, he added, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Hakyeon nodded, just a single dip of the head. Since Taekwoon was their primary connection to the humans, it would be Taekwoon who would ultimately make the final call. Well— Sanghyuk had a say in their dealings with Jaehwan, but Hakyeon couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t also be on board with supplementing the humans financially if they needed it. Which they most definitely did.

Wonshik didn’t say anything, his jaw set and eyes fixed on the far wall, hands clenched at his sides. Hakyeon wondered at that, at what was happening with his eldest child and Hongbin. Wonshik, with his open, ready heart, and Hongbin, who didn’t seem to have much of a heart at all. 

_Nothing good_ , Hakyeon thought as he watched Wonshik’s eyes drop, his head tipping down, as if there was too much weight all of a sudden. _Nothing good_.

——

The night was icy, snowflakes swirling around the back porch light the same way moths would in the summer. Fading in and out of being, as the breeze carried them near and then away from the stark light. 

Hongbin clutched the blanket tighter around his shoulders, feet tucked under himself. The chair was unforgiving wood, and his ankles would soon ache, but for a moment, just a moment, Hongbin wanted to sit here, in the cold air, looking out on their dim backyard, the sparkle of the moon beyond the snowfall.

His breath steamed out from his lips, snatched away by the breeze. Gently, tenderly, snowflakes brushed across his cheeks, dampening them as they melted against his warmth. 

Hongbin let his head loll to the side, hair feathering over his eyes, catching on his lashes. “Wonshik,” he whispered, the name catching unpleasantly in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

He could say it, now, to the emptiness, Wonshik long gone, the mess in the kitchen cleaned up. Hongbin had some new abrasions on his fingertips from the shattered dishware, and a terrible headache, but otherwise was not really any worse off for his ordeal. Not physically.

The sweet fluttering of the snow against Hongbin’s skin reminded Hongbin of Wonshik’s touch. Light, tentative, and fading moments after landing upon him. Melting, gone. Burned up. Hongbin was not meant to be touched gently. And that had always been perfectly fine— he’d never needed softness, never craved it. After his father was— was gone— he’d wanted comfort, for a while, a return to normalcy and peace, perhaps. But it had been irrevocably snatched from him, buried under the earth decaying, and he was smart enough to know it would never return, and after that, he had adjusted to the abrasiveness of his new existence, and grown callouses so that he hardly felt it anymore.

And it had been fine. Difficult, in moments, and decidedly not fucking fun. But fine.

He was addled, he thought. Anyone would be a bit off, after having their— their mind fondled by a member of the undead. Maybe he was just residually squishy in the head. Squishy-squashy. That would explain the— the emotions— these fucking— thoughts—

 _I’ve learned not to fall in love with hunters_ , Wonshik had said, anger in his eyes, _they rarely deserve it_.

It had been meant to hurt. Which meant Wonshik knew. Or at least suspected. Even before the glamour, even before dipping into Hongbin’s mind and seeing— everything else. Everything Hongbin hadn’t wanted him to see. It was awful, it was humiliating. Hongbin was so fucking ashamed of himself. 

And he hadn’t gotten anything useful in return, no hair-raising secrets of Wonshik’s had gotten churned to the surface for Hongbin to hold and use as a weapon. Wonshik had taken— taken everything from Hongbin— left him bare and raw, and all Hongbin had gotten in return was— was—

_I shouldn’t have said what I did— it wasn’t fair— you didn’t do anything wrong— he shouldn’t have left you—_

“But you did say it,” Hongbin said out into the yard he could no longer see, his eyes too full of sudden tears. They streaked down, hot on his cold cheeks, their trails frosting over quickly. _And you’re going to leave too, in the end_.

Even Taekwoon had left. Hongbin didn’t blame him, he’d been murdered— but the bottom line was, Taekwoon was retreating into the distance, like a ship vanishing over the horizon. And soon Jaehwan would be dead, in a more permanent fashion. Then Hongbin would be truly alone. And he needed to get a grip on himself and begin to plan for that. Not sit here and water the dry grass with his eyeballs. 

But despair sat heavy in his chest, in a way it hadn’t in a long time. He wasn’t entirely sure why. He was longing for— for peace, but not the peace of his childhood. 

Once again he saw the ocean, a deep grey blue, lapping at sand-colored stones. A place he’d never been. The rough timbre of Wonshik’s voice, like waves rushing against a cliffside. Arms like stone holding Hongbin immobile, hands gripping him with bruising force. Hurting in more ways than one.

And then those same hands, unspeakably gentle on Hongbin’s jaw. And still painful. 

Squishy-squashy. His brain like a well-worn sweater, thinning and close to tearing in places. That is all this was.

He needed rest, and quiet, time to recharge.

He needed Wonshik to finish taking those final steps out of his life. Hongbin could feel he was close to leaving, giving up, was getting tired of Hongbin constantly responding to his kindness with— with unkindness. With Hongbin’s particular brand of repulsiveness. 

Hongbin was always good at ruining things. Pushing people away. He could do it. He would do it. And then his mind, his body, would be his own again. 

The wards of the house pinged, and Hongbin jerked, uncurling his legs so his feet could brace on the porch floorboards, creaking. The cold air hitting his legs barely registered as he scrambled to wipe at his face with the blanket, conceal the evidence. 

No vampire came flickering into the backyard, and Hongbin yanked the door open and fled inside, where it was warm. His skin prickled with the temperature change, tingling pleasantly. No sooner had he pushed the backdoor closed did he hear the front door echo it. 

After wiping at his face with a dry corner of the blanket again, just to be safe, Hongbin padded out of the kitchen and into the living room even as the warding of the house was already settling.

Jaehwan stood alone by the large front window, turned away, his pale shape ghostly in the low lighting. If Hongbin squinted, he could almost trick his eyes into thinking Jaehwan was slightly translucent. But maybe that was just residual moisture. 

“Did you have fun with the reanimated corpses?” Hongbin asked loudly, jarring even himself with the sudden noise. 

Jaehwan jumped, his head swivelling around, and though his eyes landed on Hongbin, they did not focus on him. It was as if he, too, was finding Hongbin slightly translucent. Seeing right through him. “Oh, Hongbin,” Jaehwan said, devoid of any substance, tone drifting.

Hongbin waited, but there was nothing else, Jaehwan’s gaze remained far away, along with his thoughts. He might have been imagining, but he rather thought Jaehwan looked even more tired than usual. And that was a feat.

“Jaehwan?” Hongbin asked, feeling himself frown. “Are you— alright?”

Jaehwan blinked, and then he, marginally, focused. Just enough for him to say, “What? Oh, yes— I’m fine.” Then his eyes went away again, to the archway of their kitchen, and he added, “I need to go down to my room— I need to— you should sleep, Hongbin.”

“I was going to,” Hongbin said softly, but Jaehwan wasn’t listening, was moving past Hongbin to the kitchen already. Vaguely, Jaehwan made a sort of patting motion at Hongbin’s shoulder as he went by, but his hand did not actually make contact. All Hongbin felt was the breeze of his passing. 

Hongbin stood, unmoving, listening as the pantry door opened and shut quietly. It would not reopen until the sun rose, and then set again.

Dawn was still a time off. And yet, Hongbin was already alone for a long while. 

The chair was where Hongbin had left it outside, and when he sat in it again, he heard the soft crunch of the flaking paint catching against the blanket. The snow still fell, dancing in the breeze, playfully twirling around the light.

Hongbin upturned his face towards the moon and closed his eyes, feeling snowflakes brush against his cheeks, catch in his lashes, melt over his lips. Places Wonshik had touched. Places he hadn’t. Places he never, ever would. 

——

Jaehwan stood in the middle of his basement room, in a mild daze. It felt so much like a prison, rough brick walls, cold concrete floor, shelves and desk cobbled together from scraps of plywood, when he compared it to the crisp cleanliness of the vampire’s home. And wasn’t that just unfair, that a human should be made to live in a hovel underground, while vampires did not. It was definitely not the way Jaehwan had thought things were, when he was younger. But much of the world wasn’t as he thought it was, when he was younger.

There was too much magic in Jaehwan for him to believe in coincidence. The Balance managed them, but it also guided them.

He should have died, that rainy day when he was sixteen, along with the rest of his family. Every game he’d play cheerleader for his older brother, from the time his brother had begun to toss a ball around on a court. Even when he knew their shitty little home team was going to lose, even when he wasn’t feeling well. He was always there.

Except that night. And he’d felt so guilty to be missing it, but he just hadn’t felt like going. And he didn’t know why. But he didn’t go and then none of his family had ever come home. And if he had been in the car with them when that drunk driver hit them he would not have survived it any more than they had. He’d seen the pictures of the car, the deep indentation of the door beside which Jaehwan normally sat.

And then the spell. The spell that should have killed him, was _killing_ him, but hadn’t finished the job yet. 

Jaehwan couldn’t decide if the Balance was keeping him alive, pulling him from the clutches of death over and over, or if the Balance was trying to make him just fucking die, and Jaehwan was the cockroach that simply wouldn’t.

If he was meant to live, to this point— what was it for, he wondered. To be delivered into the arms of death, just instead of a reaper, it was a vampire. Or perhaps a fate of a different sort, but what would be the point of keeping him alive, for him to turn into a demon.

Maybe it would work. Maybe he wasn’t meant to die young. Maybe he was meant to _live_.

Or maybe he had just been a lucky bastard and the Balance didn’t give a single toenail of a fuck about him. That seemed more likely, and Jaehwan’s luck couldn’t last forever.

Sanghyuk thought this would work, but Sanghyuk was a vampire, so blood drinking wasn’t exactly a complication he’d be overly bothered with. But Jaehwan—

“I don’t know what to _do_ ,” he said helplessly, staring at the empty mirror frame leaned up against his wall. He scrubbed his hands over his face, sinking down to sit on the edge of his bed.

He didn’t want to die. But where was the line, where the cost of living was just too high. 

——

No matter how the canopy of overlapping branches and browning pine needles tried, snow and moonlight still slipped through, building up and pooling on the forest floor. A blanket of sparkling white concealing soft, damp earth underneath.

Walking on the road would have perhaps been faster. And cleaner. But Wonshik needed some time, wasn’t keen to return to the house too soon. That was probably why Hakyeon had asked this of him. A task, to get him out of the house, give him time to think and process, as he so often needed. Wonshik should have, perhaps, felt some sort of unease, alone and carrying a secret that could bring so much destruction to their kind. But somehow, other things felt so much more important right now. So much heavier.

Wonshik reached into his back pocket, pulling out the folded slip of paper and opening it. He didn’t stop walking as he skimmed its contents, footing sure and careful over hidden rocks and twisted tree roots. Hakyeon hadn’t bothered to check it over, but perhaps he was confident that they weren’t being tricked. Jaehwan had no reason to deceive them at this point, after all.

Or maybe it was simply that for someone who didn’t, and had never, practiced magic, this was a lot of damned gibberish. And Hakyeon would have known he wouldn’t be able to ascertain the validity of it, even if he had read it through. Truthfully, Wonshik wasn’t sure how Kyungsoo or Chanyeol would know either once Wonshik had given it to them, but that wasn’t his problem.

Wonshik hadn’t been able to do magic as a human, and really couldn’t do it as a vampire. He could recognize the spell ingredients, listed out, most of them he’d heard of before, and could identify. But the spell, he couldn’t make heads nor tails of. Spellwork, he knew, tended to be in latin, at least in this hemisphere. But this one, unusually, was not. The letters weren’t any Wonshik could read at all. He thought it was perhaps in old norse, of some breed. Another language that Wonshik would have hated to learn. Latin had been bad enough.

He wondered what Hongbin would say, if he knew Wonshik spoke Latin. He’d probably call Wonshik a _nerd_ , in that sort of nasally, dismissive voice he would lull into every time he said something like _stupid_ and _ugly_.

The idea made Wonshik smile, if a bit ruefully. He disliked that every thought he had somehow came back to Hongbin. But he wasn’t sure how to get out of the habit. Normally when he was fixated on a human, they were fixated back.

Wonshik had always liked humans. His approach through the decades had been very unlike Sanghyuk’s. Sanghyuk, who stuck to the company of vampires, because vampires were— steady, constant fixtures in their long lives, rather than the ephemeral, delicate flutterings that was a human’s life. Sanghyuk was too soft, and where Wonshik found beauty in the sharp, bright bursts a relationship with a human brought, Sanghyuk was always left saddened when he was ultimately holding ashes after all was said and done.

Wonshik understood that to a degree, but he’d accepted it as a part of their existences. Vampires were permanent. Humans were not.

This was a first for Wonshik, where he was experiencing Sanghyuk’s melancholy over a human. It was the bittersweet taste of near hits and almost reaches. That terrible, haunting feeling of what could have been. No wonder Sanghyuk preferred to avoid it. 

Well, they were both fucked, weren’t they.

Wonshik sighed and folded the spell back up, dusting off the snowflakes that had caught on the parchment as he did so. Winter was truly upon them, and the night was quite cold. He wondered if Hongbin was warm, was sleeping. He wondered if Hongbin had cried himself to sleep. Or if he was crying now. It was surprisingly painful to contemplate.

Maybe Wonshik was soft too. Softer than he’d even realized. 

“I wish you’d let me help you,” Wonshik whispered, staring up at the barren tree canopy above, at the sky bright with star and moonlight. Snowflakes floated down and caught on his lashes, landed lightly on his cheeks. He was cold, as cold as they were, and they rested on him as they rested on the blanket of dried pine needles underfoot. If he were to stay here, he’d be no different from a statue, from the trees standing proud and silent and ancient around him. He wondered, if he remained a while, if he could have some of their peace. 

But he could not stay forever, or even for long. The sun was coming, it was always coming. And Wonshik must stay in endless night. 

He tipped his face down, shaking his head so snowflakes cascaded out of his hair, and then resumed walking. 

Hongbin would never consent to receiving help, Wonshik knew, tucking the list back into his pocket. But Wonshik would still try. He couldn’t not _try_. 

“You really are stupid,” Wonshik muttered, steps silent in the night as the light layer of snow gave under his feet. “A stupid ugly _nerd_.”

His heart was heavy, but he found himself smiling anyway.

——

Hongbin, in a startling turn of events, was awake when the knocking came. He curled his legs under himself from where he’d had them stretched out in the long rectangle of sunlight streaming in through the large kitchen window, warming them. Then he put his coffee mug down and stood, going from cool tiles to threadbare carpet to answer the door.

He should have looked through the peephole, but the house wards weren’t reacting badly to whoever was out there, and Hongbin had his guess before he even pulled the door open. Sure enough it was Jongin standing on their mat, wearing a charcoal grey coat today and carrying the usual beige paper bag. Behind him, the thin blanket of snow over their front yard glittered in the early afternoon sunlight.

“Come in,” Hongbin said before Jongin could speak, stepping back so Jongin could move inside. The air outside was shockingly cold, and Hongbin closed the door behind Jongin quickly. Perhaps Hongbin should have been bothered by getting another food delivery, but he couldn’t find the antagonism within himself. His morning had been long and quiet, and Hongbin had locked himself down enough last night that he felt a sort of numbness right now, as if he were a lake that had been frozen over. Peaceful wasn’t the right way to describe it. Just still. Quiet. 

Jongin was moving to the kitchen already. “It isn’t a whole lot this time, since I came by the other day,” he said, and there was something odd about his tone. As Hongbin watched him unpack the food — roast beef with little round potatoes, curry and rice — he noted the stiffness in Jongin’s shoulders, the quick way Jongin’s gaze would skitter over Hongbin but not land long enough on his eyes. 

“I mean, it is free food, and it isn’t like you owe it to us,” Hongbin said coolly. Jongin sort of gave a noncommittal grunt, and then turned to Hongbin holding the empty paper bag, a questioning tilt to his head. “Ah, yeah, they’re here—”

Hongbin backed up, not looking away from Jongin, as he reached for the kitchen cabinet slowly to fetch the cleaned and empty tupperware containers. He paused, with his hand on the cabinet’s handle, gauging. It wasn’t hard to guess the source of Jongin’s discomfort— he surely knew Hongbin had been brought to the feeder house, the feeder house where he worked and lived, and been glamoured of memories there. Perhaps it was simply the fact of it that discomfited him, but it was more likely that he hadn’t been told why Hongbin was being glamoured, or, more importantly, what was supposed to have been taken. And he was concerned about slipping up, saying something he shouldn’t. 

Which Hongbin could definitely exploit. And he needed to do so. It was time to get this plan into motion for true.

So he steeled himself against the soft memories of ocean spray and snowflakes, and pinned Jongin with his customer service grin.

“You probably know this already,” Hongbin said conversationally, still not opening the cabinet as if he’d gotten too sidetracked by his sudden thought, “but I was at the feeder house where I think you work? A couple nights ago. I don’t think I saw you, though?”

Jongin looked like a deer caught in the headlights, just for a moment, and then it smoothed over as he looked down at the bag in his hands, fingers going over the creases of it and sharpening them idly. “Oh, no, I was sleeping while you were there, I think,” he said, just a little slow, but very steady. 

“I seem to remember you saying the feeder house was owned by Hakyeon and your master,” Hongbin continued, letting his hand fall from the cabinet fully and instead laying it on the counter, so he could lean casually against it. He saw Jongin swallow. “Which one was your master, if I may ask? There were quite a handful of vampires hanging about, and the whole thing was a lot for me, I don’t remember many details.”

Jongin did pause then, but it could be passed off as him being suspicious over sudden questions, as opposed to treading carefully over a potential trap. “Kyungsoo,” he said finally, and Hongbin didn’t allow any sort of recognition at the name to pass over his face. “Short, dark hair, he was turned when he was sixteen so he looks rather young.”

Hongin nodded then, turning away finally and opening the cabinet. “I didn’t see much of him,” he said, pulling out the tupperware containers. “It would have been nice to talk to him given— everything. But he seemed a bit unhappy.” 

“We just have a lot going on right now, please don’t take it personally.” 

Hongbin didn’t say anything to that, not right away, turning over his options in his mind. He could let the conversation die, pick it up again next time, because surely Jongin would be back again. But at the same time, things felt— dire, somehow. Perhaps it was just that Hongbin was working on a tower of cards, and he knew he needed to complete it before a gust of wind took it down again. 

He wasn’t sure he would be able to start over.

“Oh? Nothing bad I hope,” Hongbin asked glibly, the picture of pleasantness. He put two tupperware containers into Jongin’s paper bag, and Jongin clutched it nearer afterwards like it was a shield. “Hakyeon’s trial went well I heard, and Jaehwan told me they all came to an agreement in regards to the spell he made.” 

Jongin made his way back into the living room, and he seemed a little more at ease now that he was leaving. Hongbin could relate to that. He didn’t particularly like being in this house either, though his reasons were different from Jongin’s. “Yeah, there was all that, but there’s also opening night, which is a lot to get ready for,” Jongin said, and Hongbin gave a sort of involuntary cough, that he tried to turn into a questioning noise. 

“Opening night?” he echoed, and Jongin stopped by the front door, eyes a little wide. “The feeder house isn’t open yet? When is it opening?”

He thought he’d managed to sound level, idle, but judging by the way Jongin was looking at him, he’d missed the mark a bit. “Two nights from now, technically,” Jongin said slowly, “though opening night is going to be less strict business and more— loose networking.”

“Is networking not business?” Hongbin asked, brow hitching.

Jongin smiled, and it was a real smile, warm and fond. “For Kyungsoo, networking is fun.”

Hongbin absorbed that, thinking that Kyungsoo seemed like a boring man with ill-humor for all that he was an ancient, intimidating vampire. But things were not always exactly as they seemed. 

He needed to go to this party, though he wasn’t entirely sure what it would entail. Pretentiousness, no doubt, but opportunities as well. Opportunities he could not afford to pass up. But would he be allowed to go, he wondered. There were a lot of reasons why Jongin, why _Kyungsoo_ , would potentially want him there. And it wasn’t as if Hongbin was wanting to go simply to get some free champagne. 

But opening night was also a place of potentially high stakes— if Chanyeol was any indication, the guest list would be something rather intimidating. 

“Could I go?” Hongbin asked, perhaps a bit too brazen but he didn’t feel now was the time to be coy.

The question, or perhaps the direct manner of it, seemed to catch Jongin off guard, and he clearly waffled over how to respond. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his jaw, staring at Hongbin with assessing eyes. Hongbin didn’t flinch away, and neither did he press the matter. He stared back, waiting.

Finally, Jongin said, “I have an appointment downtown in ten minutes— I can’t stay.” No time to haggle, is what Jongin meant, and Hongbin grit his teeth, because patience was not always his virtue. But then Jongin continued, “If you have time— come with me? To talk terms.”

Now it was Hongbin’s turn to be taken off guard. He was dressed and showered, but— no, he didn’t have time. He had a shift at work in a little more than an hour. But there was that feeling again, of needing to lay another card in his tower.

Jongin’s car keys jingled as he pulled them out of his pocket, and Hongbin followed him out to his svelte little black car and folded down into the passenger seat.

——

Hakyeon had not been lying about his superiorly large bathtub. It was almost a jacuzzi, much larger than the one in Taekwoon’s room. All he could think was it must take ages to fill up. Maybe one night he would use it. When he had nothing else to do at all. Taekwoon predicted, with eternity looming, he’d have many a night where he had nothing to other than exist. But it was too early, and he was too tired, to try and contemplate the terrifyingly vast amount of time sprawling out in front of him. 

The scissors snipped a little too close to Taekwoon’s ear, loud, intrusive, and he grumbled in what even he could admit was a childish fashion. “Shush,” Hakyeon murmured, fingers folding Taekwoon’s ear down so he wouldn’t accidentally cut him. 

It was, perhaps, not the best place to perform this particularly mundane ritual. But Taekwoon hadn’t wanted to be a spectacle in the kitchen. So here he sat, on the hard, porcelain edge of Hakyeon’s bathtub, his long legs dangling into the deep well of it, bare feet sticking a little to the bottom. Hakyeon stood behind him, a shadow in his peripheral at times, snipping away. Small clumps of dark hair lay fallen all around them, gathering in the wrinkles of Taekwoon’s clothing, on the tiled floor behind him, tickling at his feet on the bottom of the tub. 

Taekwoon yawned, then absentmindedly took a sip of his blood bag. Getting a haircut had always made him sleepy, and Hakyeon had woken him up for this, dragged him out of bed in his pajamas and propped him up here, shoving a blood bag into his hands to pacify him.

“We need to get this done before tomorrow night, and the earlier the better,” Hakyeon had explained. “That way if I mess up too terribly, we have time to find someone to fix it.”

“ _Too_ terribly?” Taekwoon had echoed, and Hakyeon had laughed. 

Taekwoon wasn’t particularly bothered. Generally it was Hongbin or Jaehwan who hacked at his hair, with Taekwoon trimming his fringe himself as a rule. Hakyeon, theoretically, wouldn’t do any worse than that time Jaehwan had given him a bald patch. 

Hakyeon’s fingers carded through Taekwoon’s hair, touselling it, and he hummed to himself thoughtfully. The sound of Taekwoon finishing his blood bag was loud in the peaceful quiet of the bathroom, straw sucking on air. Hakyeon’s fingers trailed over the back of Taekwoon’s head, resting lightly on the nape of his neck. “Do you want another?” he asked softly. “How are you feeling?”

Wasn’t that just a loaded question. But it was _definitely_ too early for all of that. “I feel— like my eyeballs are going to liquify and fall out, I’m so tired. You lied to me, the sun isn’t down,” Taekwoon mumbled, exceptionally whiny as he let his empty blood bag fall out of his hands and down onto the bottom of the tub with his growing mountain of hair.

Hakyeon made a very unflattering sort of noise. “The sun set, I promise. You’re just being a baby,” he said smartly, and Taekwoon rotated so he could see Hakyeon, could grin up at him. Hakyeon sighed exasperatedly, but he smiled too. “Could you turn properly so you’re facing me, kitten? I think I’m done with the back, I just need to get your fringe now.”

Taekwoon obeyed, bringing his legs up and over the ledge of the tub, setting his feet down on the tiled floor, spaced apart, so Hakyeon had room to step between them, step close. As Hakyeon began to deftly section Taekwoon’s hair, clipping carefully, Taekwoon let his eyes drift shut, feeling oddly at peace. It was momentary he knew, but it was warm and sweet and soft. Were he more alert, he would possibly be uncomfortable, being in such an enclosed, intimate situation with Hakyeon. Or maybe anxious, or guilty. He could feel all that later. Right now he was sun-sleepy and bloodlust-foggy. Too out of it to worry, or to think beyond the surface of things. He could just exist in this moment, Hakyeon’s hands carding gently through his hair, and pretend everything was alright.

“You can go back to bed, once I’m done,” Hakyeon said, and it was all rounded around the edges, dreamy soft. 

Taekwoon opened his eyes a little, just enough so that he could see Hakyeon’s midsection in front of him, overlong button down, thighs concealed under black slacks. “Hmm?” Taekwoon mumbled.

“Sleep,” Hakyeon said, huffing out an exasperated sounding laugh. It ruffled Taekwoon’s hair a little. “When I’m done, you can go back to sleep.”

“You said you had things to tell me,” Taekwoon muttered slowly, “important things. Before the party.” Last night. He’d said it last night. But then he’d gone out on errands and by the time he’d come back, he’d said it was too late, and they’d talk tomorrow instead. Which was now. 

“I do,” Hakyeon said, and maybe it was Taekwoon’s tired brain playing tricks, but Hakyeon seemed a bit— cagey. “But that was before I knew you were going to be so tired. I should have known— you haven’t been an early bird before.”

Taekwoon frowned a little, not entirely buying that excuse. “Tell me now.”

Hakyeon didn't speak immediately, but when Taekwoon squinted up at him, through the glare of the lights and his fringe, still choppily long in places, Hakyeon’s expression was warm and fond, his eyelids lowered and mouth curved. There was nothing deceitful about that face. “Alright," Hakyeon murmured, still snipping carefully. “Do you remember Kyungsoo saying a woman named Lim would be coming to the party?”

 _Vaguely_ , Taekwoon thought, trying to recall the conversation. He’d been somewhat curious at the time, but obviously not momentously so. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I think. I was a bit— distracted.” Worrying over Hongbin, and hurting because of Jaehwan. But he didn’t need, or want, to say that aloud. Hakyeon would know.

There was a bit of a pause, during which Hakyeon’s expression grew more somber. “She is one of the ring leaders of the nest,” Hakyeon said, and he wasn’t warm at all anymore, but he was still at ease. Perhaps it was a side effect of the setting. Maybe he found the repetitive, small action of cutting hair as relaxing as Taekwoon. Maybe he simply didn't want to taint the moment with antagonism. Taekwoon tipped his face up further, even though he wasn’t supposed to be moving, so he could blink up at Hakyeon. “She is dangerous. I was going to— but it doesn’t matter. She will have no chance to speak to you alone, and no right to ask for a private audience even if she wanted one.” 

“I wasn’t going to talk to anyone, to be honest,” Taekwoon said softly. He wondered why Hakyeon would put off telling him this, when it seemed so— so straightforward. It wasn't good news, definitely, but it could be so much worse. “Do you think she will do something?”

“At the party? Unlikely,” Hakyeon said, and he sounded rather confident in that. “She will just be paying very close attention. But then— so will everyone else.” He smiled, but it was a little thin. Brittle. “It would be best if you stayed near me, through the evening. Don’t offer any information unless directly asked, and even then— be careful.”

“I will be,” Taekwoon said, trying to put as much serious sincerity in it as possible, considering he felt almost borderline drunk. Hakyeon nodded a little, pushing Taekwoon’s fringe back, up off his forehead entirely, humming thoughtfully. It wasn’t enough, Taekwoon thought, so he added, “I want to keep you safe.” It was true. Hakyeon had done this for him, for Taekwoon. Had killed and gone on trial for him, and not put a price on it, even though he could have. Taekwoon owed it to him to at the least try, in return.

Hakyeon stared down at him, lips slightly parted, eyes a bit wide, almost startled. Then he was looking away, quickly and suddenly, lashes lowering. He put the scissors down on the counter and grabbed a comb instead, and came to fuss over the fall of Taekwoon’s hair, like he was trying to make himself appear busy. Taekwoon wondered if Hakyeon had always been so easy to read, and he’d just had his head too far up his own ass before to notice. 

“Was there anything else?” Taekwoon asked, not entirely pleased when it became clear that Hakyeon was going to pointedly ignore the question.

“I’m done,” Hakyeon muttered, still not meeting Taekwoon’s eyes. He put the brush down, dusting his hands together so small clippings of hair floated off them towards the ground. 

“Does it look _too_ terrible?” Taekwoon asked, and that earned him a mild glare, which only made him smile. 

“It looks perfectly fine, thank you very much,” Hakyeon said, pushing back a strand that had stubbornly fallen forward over Taekwoon’s forehead again. His gaze skittered, over the gentle waves of Taekwoon’s hair, the side of his face, before being drawn to Taekwoon’s eyes and catching there. His hand stilled near Taekwoon’s ear, in a sort of absent, distracted way. Taekwoon leaned a bit, so Hakyeon’s hand was cradling the side of his head. His fingers were gentle on Taekwoon’s scalp. 

Hakyeon’s gaze left his eyes, but only to flicker down to Taekwoon’s mouth and then back up very quickly. It made Taekwoon feel warm, and the moment was still fuzzy enough around the edges that he felt invulnerable, like the immortal being he now was. He could say anything, do anything, he had nothing to fear.

“You can,” Taekwoon whispered. 

“I can what?” Hakyeon asked, just as softly, as if he too were afraid of breaking the spell.

“Kiss me.”

Hakyeon didn't— not immediately. His other hand came up, fingertips brushing over Taekwoon’s cheek, his jaw, almost reverent. When he moved, it was slow, giving Taekwoon a chance to pull back, to change his mind, but Taekwoon sat still, his face upturned expectantly. Hakyeon leaned down, and down, soft curls framing his face, and Taekwoon closed his eyes. 

The touch of Hakyeon’s lips on his was gentle, tentative, and Taekwoon breathed in the scent of him, cedarwood and sweet vampire magic, so unlike anything Taekwoon had ever known before. Both of Hakyeon’s hands slid to the back of Taekwoon’s head, his nape, cupping him nearer, and Taekwoon gasped, his lips parting against Hakyeon’s. It was enough that for a moment, he tasted the dampness of Hakyeon’s breath, but then Hakyeon was pulling back, quickly whispering, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Taekwoon pressed up, sealing his lips over Hakyeon’s and cutting him off. Hakyeon might have moved to pull back, but Taekwoon was standing up, wrapping his hands around the narrow width of Hakyeon’s waist and pushing closer for every move Hakyeon took away. He had Hakyeon backed up and pinned to the bathroom wall without thinking about it, he just wanted that taste again, and Hakyeon let him have it, his mouth falling open readily, almost helplessly. Hakyeon was anything but helpless, was older and so much stronger, but it sent a thrill up Taekwoon’s spine nonetheless. The illusion was there, Hakyeon slim and lovely, pliant. Taekwoon had to lean down a little to kiss him, and he enjoyed that immensely. 

Taekwoon’s fangs slipped out, the tips catching on Hakyeon’s bottom lip. Hakyeon made a noise, it was almost a growl, and Taekwoon responded by pressing nearer, pressing Hakyeon’s body to the wall with his own, from chest to thighs. Hakyeon was hard in his slacks already, and Taekwoon whimpered against Hakyeon’s lips when he realized.

Then Hakyeon was gone, ripping away, and Taekwoon took a beat to react. He spun around, searching, disoriented by the sudden change. Hakyeon was a few steps away, hands held up at shoulder level, making a sort of _stay_ motion at Taekwoon. His eyes were a bit wild, hair mussed, lips slick and reddened. The collar of his button-down was askew. There was a voice at the back of Taekwoon’s brain that was screaming, it might have been his guilty conscience, but it was easy to ignore, when there was so much fog and white noise at the forefront of his mind. 

Hakyeon swallowed, and Taekwoon was oddly attuned to the motion of it. He wanted to close the distance between them, wanted to tear that damned button-down off Hakyeon and get _lost_ in him. Because, he was beginning to realize, he could get so lost in Hakyeon. He could fucking drown in him. And maybe he’d need to come back to the surface at some point but for a time, for five minutes or ten or a hundred or a thousand he wanted to have something he desired and not to fucking think about it. And Hakyeon— Hakyeon was smart enough that he could do all the thinking for the both of them. 

Hakyeon was thinking now. Taekwoon wished he would stop, even as he sourly reflected it was probably for the best. Even through the fog, he could see that.

“Not now,” Hakyeon said, and it was breathy and maybe a little desperate. “Not now. There’s— there’s something I—”

Taekwoon ran a hand through his hair, jolted because he found it shorter than it had been. “Yes, you’re right, I— I’m sorry,” Taekwoon said, a bit stiffly. He couldn’t look at Hakyeon. Because he was beautiful, because he was tempting. And because Taekwoon was beginning to feel ashamed. “My impulse control isn’t always great.”

“Nor mine,” Hakyeon said, and it was hoarse. 

The fog was clearing, and Hakyeon was beginning to look like a man who’d been attacked, rather than kissed. Taekwoon hunched a little, shuffling his feet. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled again, looking at Hakyeon’s feet. 

He watched as Hakyeon stepped nearer, as his hands came to rest on Taekwoon’s shoulders and Hakyeon pressed his face nearer, so Taekwoon had to look at him, couldn’t avoid it. “Kitten,” he said softly, then paused. “Taekwoon,” he tried again, voice going lower, deeper, and Taekwoon fought not to shiver. “Don’t think I don’t welcome your advances, because I do. I want you. I just—” Hakyeon’s mouth twisted, his hands trailing down Taekwoon’s arms so he could clasp Taekwoon’s hands. “There is something else. Something I need to tell you. And I’ve been avoiding it, because I’m afraid of what you will think. But it wouldn’t be fair of me, to let you— to let you take me to bed, without telling you first.”

Taekwoon, momentarily, got stuck on the _take me to bed_ , because truthfully his brain hadn’t fully gone there, he wasn’t sure that is what would have ended up happening— but then the rest of Hakyeon’s words caught up to him. Dread creeped, cold and unwelcome, along his spine. He pulled his hands out of Hakyeon’s grasp, side stepped a little to put space between them. “Tell me,” he said. 

Hakyeon— it was hard to tell exactly what he did, but it was like watching someone shrug a coat on, perhaps— he was disheveled and shaken and then he wasn’t, pulling himself tall and smoothing a hand over his hair and he was back to being poised, implacable Hakyeon once more. The redness on his lips remained, but that was all.

“In Vrienyre," he said, carefully, “I was given some information.” He was facing away from Taekwoon, but he glanced over out of the corner of his eyes. “It was about your brother.”

Of all the things Taekwoon had been bracing himself for, that took him by surprise. “Jisoo?” he asked, softly. “What— what about him?” They’d never spoken of this properly, which had been a very deliberate choice, and Taekwoon wasn’t sure he could— the roles of his life had been reversed. His human life, in so many ways, now felt like the fuzzy, indistinct chaos of a dragged out nightmare. While his vampiric existence felt wiped clean, clear and concise. 

Taekwoon wasn’t a whole new person when he woke up vampire, he remembered— everything, every part of his human life, but for all that, he still felt disconnected from it, from the person he’d been. He was trying to hold onto the good parts of his human self, the parts that lived on in Hongbin, in Jaehwan, but so much of it— he didn’t want to be that person anymore, he didn’t _feel_ like that person anymore. That fragile human living on misery and anger. He didn’t want to be that.

But it was still in him. No matter how many steps he took in a new direction it would remain in his bones, corruption in his structure.

And thinking of Jisoo, of his family, of broken dishware and screaming voices, brought it all bubbling sickly to the surface. He didn’t want to feel any of it anymore. But he couldn’t escape it. 

“The nest— Lim— they may have had something to do with his death,” Hakyeon said. He was watching Taekwoon carefully. Taekwoon, for his part, had no idea what Hakyeon was seeing on his face, in his body language. “I don’t know for certain, but they were in the area, when it all happened. We will have to dig, to know for sure.” Hakyeon paused, some of that flawless poise slipping as Hakyeon looked down to pointlessly fiddle with his shirt cuffs, just enough of a motion to convey he was nervous though trying not to show it. “I need to know what you want to do. I can chase this, or we can let it rest. What do you want to do, Taekwoon?”

Corruption at the core, rot inside, Taekwoon didn’t want to be that person anymore.

“I have to know,” Taekwoon whispered, barely audible, even to his own ears.

Hakyeon nodded, as if that was what he expected. As if it didn’t disappoint him. “I’ll put some feelers out and go from there,” he said, weirdly brisk, like this was a business deal. “I promise if they did have something to do with this, I will find out.”

Promise. _I promise_. What was the promise of a vampire worth.

Taekwoon swallowed thickly and nodded in turn. It wasn’t vampire graceful, was jerky and sharp. “Thank you,” he said, through lips that felt somewhat numb. Then something occurred to him. “But—” He cocked his head to the side a bit. “Did you think I would be mad at you for this? It isn’t your doing.”

“I just— I don’t know,” Hakyeon muttered, not meeting Taekwoon’s eyes. “I worry.” He continued to fidget with his cuff, nails catching on the seam.

Taekwoon squared his shoulders, steeping in closer and raising his hand up slowly. Carefully, he brushed the back of his hand over Hakyeon’s cheek, found his skin soft under his knuckles. “Thank you,” Taekwoon murmured, “for worrying about me.”

Hakyeon was wide eyed. “I said I’d let you lead,” he whispered. “But can you promise me you’ll take us slowly? I— I don’t want— I don’t want anything between us to be impulse.” Hakyeon’s eyes fluttered closed as Taekwoon dragged his fingertips along his jawline. “I don’t want regret to catch you.”

It was difficult, to not show how unsettled the words made Taekwoon. Sometimes, it was like Hakyeon was reading his mind, was plucking his vulnerabilities right from his core. “Yes, I promise,” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon had made him so many promises, and kept them; it was probably time for Taekwoon to return the favor.

——

There was something about snow that made the world quieter. For all the turmoil of recently, the hunters’ house seemed peaceful, amber glowing windows and roof with a crown of ice. 

That was until Sanghyuk let himself in through the unlocked back door, and was greeted with a shriek he had not entirely been expecting. “Sorry,” he said to Hongbin, who was manfully pretending he hadn’t just screamed like an eight year old faced with a spider. “The back door was unlocked.”

“And you couldn’t _knock_ , you overgrown cadaver?” Slowly, Hongbin lowered himself back into his prior sitting position, but his heart remained pounding. He’d been eating dinner— it rather looked like the curry Sanghyuk had sent over. The food was meant for Jaehwan, but Sanghyuk wasn’t really fussed about Hongbin eating it too.

“Is Jaehwan awake?” Sanghyuk asked, perhaps a bit hopefully. The pantry door was open, but the inside of the small room was dark, the entrance to Jaehwan’s basement room closed. Sanghyuk didn’t want to wake Jaehwan, but neither did he want to sit here alone in the kitchen with only Hongbin for company until Jaehwan emerged.

“He just got done showering, he’s nice and clean for you,” Hongbin said around a mouthful of curry, and then made a face. “Eaugh, I grossed myself out. Whatever. Just if you’re gonna fondle him, do it where I can’t see.”

Sanghyuk did not reply to that, as he did not want to give Hongbin any more fodder for ammo. Blessedly, the hatch in the floor of the pantry creaked open, Jaehwan peeking out over the ledge rather cutely. “Sanghyuk?” he called softly. He made to push open the hatch more, but Sanghyuk strode across the kitchen quickly before Jaehwan could climb fully out.

“No, it’s okay,” Sanghyuk said, taking the edge of the door in his hand and holding it open. “I’ll come down there.”

Jaehwan smiled up at him, soft and sweet, his cheeks a little pinkened from his shower, hair still damp. He climbed back down the staircase and Sanghyuk followed, feeling Hongbin’s eyes on him as he did so. Once he was far enough down, he made sure to close the hatch door snugly. Not to protect from the dawn sunlight, which was hours upon hours away. But rather for the barricade of sound proofing. 

“You’re here early,” Jaehwan said, leaning back against the edge of his desk. His sweater had swallowed his hands, and his sweatpants were on their way to devouring his feet. “Well, early for a vampire.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Sanghyuk said, which sounded ominous, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Jaehwan— Sanghyuk could see him withdraw a little, like a wary animal. Above them, Hongbin seemed to be stomping around, hopefully getting ready to go the fuck to bed so they wouldn’t be interrupted. “Have you told him?” Sanghyuk asked, darting a glance upwards to convey who he meant. “What we talked about yesterday?”

“No, I’m nervous about telling people, to be honest,” Jaehwan said, still wary, a little slow. Inside his overlong sleeves, Sanghyuk could tell he was wringing his hands. “Have you? Told anyone, I mean.”

Sanghyuk shook his head. This wasn’t the sort of thing that he would want to announce to the world. Or to anyone. It was too dangerous. “Not yet,” he said. “I think it is important to be cautious.”

“Yes,” Jaehwan said, and it was so stilted, so awkward, that Sanghyuk almost wanted to laugh. Except he hated that he’d made Jaehwan so nervous. He hated that he’d had to make Jaehwan so nervous. “I don’t know, Sanghyuk, I— I don’t have a decision yet.”

“Jae,” Sanghyuk sighed softly. He stepped forward, and Jaehwan tensed but ultimately didn’t pull away when Sanghyuk loosely wrapped his arms around him, dragging him nearer, against his body. “It’s alright. You don’t need to decide now. It’s a lot to consider.” Sanghyuk was keenly aware of the fact that they were running out of time, but he knew Jaehwan was even more familiar with that fact than he was. He did not need to remind Jaehwan of it. Now was not the time to rush him. Sanghyuk pressed a kiss to Jaehwan’s temple, found his skin slightly residually damp, and in his arms the tension bled out of Jaehwan. His slim arms came up, wrapping loosely around Sanghyuk’s middle. Sanghyuk nuzzled against his hair, whispering, “I know it’s frightening.”

Jaehwan pressed his face to the base of Sanghyuk’s throat, hiding there. “Can we talk about something else?” he asked, voice high and maybe a little wobbly.

“Yes, of course,” Sanghyuk said readily. “Do you have a topic in mind?” He pulled back to look at Jaehwan’s face, and Jaehwan stared up at him for a moment and then looked away, cheeks reddening a little. Sanghyuk waited, fondly watching Jaehwan think. He was so lovely, and in truth Sanghyuk would have been happy to stand here in silence, with Jaehwan in his arms, for the rest of the night. 

Jaehwan’s fingers tapped in an erratic rhythm against his back. “Tomorrow,” he said, slowly. 

“Mm,” Sanghyuk hummed, smiling down at Jaehwan a little. “The party. Do you still want to go?”

Jaehwan blinked up at him, his eyes large and dark. “Yes,” he said. “I just— is there anything I should know? Dos and don’ts, I guess.”

Sanghyuk had to actively turn his mind inwards, so he could consider the question, because Jaehwan staring up at him from so close was distracting. “Most of it, I don’t think I need to tell you,” Sanghyuk said slowly. _Don’t talk about the sunlight spell, don’t talk about the life you had with Taekwoon_. Jaehwan nodded. “Let me answer the questions, I suppose. It’s honestly probably best if you sort of just— look pretty and harmless.” It was a lame finish, and maybe a bit insulting.

But Jaehwan didn’t seem upset by it. “Because that is what humans do, at vampire parties,” he said quietly. 

Sanghyuk winced before he could catch himself. “I’m sorry, I know it isn’t—”

“It’s the way it is, in your world,” Jaehwan said, and he truly didn’t sound bothered. He gave Sanghyuk a small smile, squeezing Sanghyuk’s middle for emphasis. “I understand. And I will probably be too— too goggly-eyed anyway, to be particularly eloquent.” He bit his bottom lip, teeth digging into the plushness, and that was a particular brand of torture, Sanghyuk rather thought. “Hakyeon said— will it really be dangerous?”

Sanghyuk’s immediate reaction was to brush the question off, because Jaehwan would not come to harm when he was with Sanghyuk. He simply wouldn’t. But that would not be entirely fair. “There are unknowns,” he said instead, “because you are a sorcerer that doesn’t always have a handle on your abilities, and you’ll be going into a situation with a lot of variables. But there are ways to mitigate that.” Jaehwan’s dainty features were somber as he listened intently, and it was so fucking hard, to not kiss him. He was so alive, the gentle susurration of blood under his skin a screaming temptation. That flush on his cheeks was sinful. “And if you’re asking about— unwanted advances, or attacks, then no. You’re mine. No one else will touch you. It’s against our laws for another vampire to lay a hand on a claimed human— even a friendly touch is an offense.” 

His voice had gone a little too intense, and Jaehwan most definitely noticed. “Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan said, licking his lips nervously, “you never explained exactly what it means. That I’m claimed.”

Sanghyuk, stalling for time, pulled back, hands sliding down Jaehwan’s arms until he could clasp his hands, and from there he tugged Jaehwan across the room, to the bed. Sanghyuk sat, and after a moment, so did Jaehwan, their hands still entwined. Jaehwan did not pressure him with more prompting, simply waited, his thumb rubbing over Sanghyuk’s knuckles. 

Finally, Sanghyuk took a deep breath, and said, “Vampires are immortal, and as such most relationships with humans are fleeting— at least, in our eyes. We live so long, and humans are gone so fast.” Jaehwan, always curious, hungry, for new information, wilted a little, with the sadness of this. Surely, he was thinking that he would be gone even faster than was normal. “For the most part, when a vampire takes on a feeder, no matter how much they may like — or even love — them, it is always with the knowledge that there’s a— a gap, a sort of chasm, between you. A mutual awareness of the temporary nature such a relationship must be.”

Jaehwan swallowed, a little thickly. “I suppose that is something important not to forget. Especially when you’re the one being left behind by death, every time,” he said, voice a bit husky.

Sanghyuk nodded, feeling a tightness in his own throat. He disentangled their hands, but only so he could take one of Jaehwan’s in both of his and flip it over, trace the lines on his palm. That had been the easier part of the speech. This was going to be more difficult. “When a vampire claims a human,” Sanghyuk said in a bare whisper, “he’s saying he wants the relationship to not be temporary.” He wasn’t looking at Jaehwan’s face, but he could feel his shock. His slim human body shuddered, a sort of fritz of magic zinging across the surface of his skin. Sanghyuk put his hand over Jaehwan’s, covering his palm and whatever secrets to the future it held. “It doesn’t have to mean turning. Mostly, it is a promise of affection and protection. It gives the human status in our circles, as a potential vampire. It’s also a public affirmation that the human is loyal, is safe to speak to and know our secrets.”

When Sanghyuk finished, he chanced a glance up, at Jaehwan’s face, and found him rather overwhelmed. “Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan said roughly, “we didn’t discuss this— it’s a lot.”

“It is,” Sanghyuk agreed, locking himself down so he could speak casually, as if he hadn’t made a very grave promise that was a magical, lifelong bond, to someone who he hadn’t even fucking asked first. That was on him, not Jaehwan. “Which is why I told you before it doesn’t have to mean anything, not to you. I did it because I trust you, and because I wanted to protect you, and it was the only way I knew how. But I won’t hold you to the— the more nuanced terms, since it wasn’t a mutual decision.”

Jaehwan blinked. “Nuanced terms?” he asked. “There’s more?”

“Well.” Sanghyuk fought not to make a pained expression. He really was an idiot. “A claimed human does have some things— expected of them? But i’m not going to hold you to being loyal to me personally— I would only ask that you not do anything that would break our more dire laws, as I will suffer the consequences of it,” he said, the words rushed, because he didn’t want Jaehwan to feel as if he’d backed him into a corner. “But if you were to meet another vampire, desire another vampire, I would not stop you from straying if it was what you wanted.”

Jaehwan’s mouth had dropped open a little as Sanghyuk spoke, but then he closed it, so quickly his teeth clacked together. Then he squinted. “When a human agrees to be claimed they’re acquiescing to exclusive access aren’t they? If even a friendly touch is against your laws.”

“Mm,” Sanghyuk said. He knew it really was a lot to dump on someone, especially without talking about it first. And even more, so soon into an acquaintance. Though calling it an acquaintance seemed silly, all things considered. Even so, they hadn’t been _there_ yet, not by a long shot, and Sanghyuk wasn’t going to hold Jaehwan to the terms of an agreement he didn't even make. “But I told you, I won't hold you to those terms. Romance with another aside— I know Taekwoon is important to you. I would never ask you to give up that.”

Surprisingly, that made Jaehwan blush. “Taekwoon and I rarely touch— mostly out of habit, because of what I can do,” Jaehwan murmured, his fingers twitching beneath Sanghyuk’s. “I dont— I can’t imagine I will meet another vampire that I want to be with. Not the way I want to be with you.” His blush deepened, and that pleased Sanghyuk far more than was strictly necessary. 

“You never know,” Sanghyuk said, but the words were automatic. He felt so warm. “The future is a strange thing, and you may have more of one than you think. Especially if I have any say.”

Jaehwan eyes shone in the low light, bottom lip reddened from being bitten between his teeth. As Sanghyuk looked at him, Jaehwan’s eyes dipped to Sanghyuk’s mouth then back up. It made Sanghyuk smile, slow and fond. “I’m worried someone will notice we’re very— new? Unsure around each other, still,” Jaehwan whispered, leaning towards Sanghyuk, seemingly without conscious thought. “I would assume most of the time when a human is at the point of being claimed, they’ve been intimate with their respective partner for a few years. We’ve not even kissed much, and you’ve only bitten me once.”

Sanghyuk swayed forward as well, so their faces were very close. “You’re right,” he murmured. He touched Jaehwan’s hair, feathering over his forehead, and brushed it back from those beautiful eyes. His voice dropped even lower. “Shall we fix that?”

Jaehwan’s heart stuttered. “Yes,” he whispered, his breath already ghosting over Sanghyuk’s lips. “God, yes, Sanghyuk—”

Sanghyuk closed the bare distance between them, and Sanghyuk barely had to run his tongue along Jaehwan’s bottom lip before Jaehwan’s mouth dropped open, letting Sanghyuk delve inside. Jaehwan's fingers twisted in the front of Sanghyuk’s shirt, and Sanghyuk cradled him close with a hand on the back of Jaehwan’s slender neck. But the angle was awkward, them both sitting somewhat side by side on the edge of the bed, and Sanghyuk growled, pulling back enough to say, “Come here, come _here_ —” 

Jaehwan, with surprising speed for a human, obeyed, straddling Sanghyuk’s thighs and then bringing their mouths together again. And this— this was definitely better, Jaehwan in his lap. Sanghyuk pressed on Jaehwan’s lower back, making him arch. It brought their chests flush, and tipped Jaehwan’s hips down against Sanghyuk’s. Jaehwan whimpered, already getting hard in his sweatpants. Sanghyuk didn’t need to look to know, he could smell Jaehwan’s arousal, could feel it against the stiff line of the zipper on his jeans. It was probably too much, too rough, but the sweet sound Jaehwan made when Sanghyuk nudged his hips up was intoxicating. Sanghyuk repeated the motion, just to see if Jaehwan would make the noise again. He did, and Sanghyuk chuckled lowly, swallowing it down. Jaehwan’s mouth was so fucking soft, and Sanghyuk carefully nipped at the tip of his tongue when Jaehwan licked over his fangs. 

Finally having Jaehwan in his bed was going to be exquisite. Sanghyuk wasn’t sure he’d be able to let Jaehwan ever leave, once he was there. He wanted to pull Jaehwan apart in every way, have him coming on his fingers, on his cock, hear every choked cry and plea. Now was not the moment, couldn’t be, but he would have it. He would have Jaehwan. 

Now, now Jaehwan was squirming desperately in his lap, and Sanghyuk wanted to slip his hand under the elastic waistband of Jaehwan’s sweatpants, but he wasn’t sure how welcome that would be. And Jaehwan was too dazed to be asked. So instead, Sanghyuk pulled away, making soft soothing noises, kissing at Jaehwan’s jawline, down his neck, giving Jaehwan a chance to catch his breath. Jaehwan’s heart was going so fast, and it sounded light too, like a child’s drum. As Sanghyuk pressed open mouthed kisses over his throat, Jaehwan shuddered, his fingernails biting at Sanghyuk’s skin even through his shirt.

“You told Taekwoon you weren’t going to bite me again,” Jaehwan said breathily, and it sounded a bit unhappy. “Did you mean it? Shouldn’t I get a say?”

“I told Taekwoon I wasn’t going to use you as a feeder,” Sanghyuk corrected. He peppered kisses down to Jaehwan’s clavicles, bared by the wide, loose collar of Jaehwan’s sweater. This skin was clean of any marks, the wounds from the previous night on the other side. “And I'm not. But I can bite without taking blood.” He let his lips part against Jaehwan’s skin, pressed just enough that his fangs would catch without drawing blood, and Jaehwan jerked and then moaned. 

“Please don’t— tease me— you don’t know what it _does_ to me—” Jaehwan clutched at him, face against Sanghyuk’s hair, breath hot.

Sanghyuk had some idea, remembered in a sort of indistinct way what it was like, to be a human in a vampire’s arms. Sanghyuk didn’t take for granted, the trust Jaehwan had given him. Jaehwan wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t doing this blindly. He’d weighed the risks, and was here anyway. “What does it do, Jaehwan?” Sanghyuk asked, husky and low.

Jaehwan shook his head, face brushing against Sanghyuk’s hair as he did so. “I don’t know, I can’t think— it’s like being dangled over a cliff edge— please, please, just—” His voice dropped to a whisper, “I want you to.”

The soft admission sent a thrill through Sanghyuk, warmth spiking sweetly between his legs. Sanghyuk wanted to draw this out longer, wanted Jaehwan heated and out of his mind with it, but again, now was not the moment. Jaehwan was already trembling, shaking hard enough to rattle himself apart. Sanghyuk dragged his hand up along Jaehwan’s spine, pressing him closer, pinning him against his own body, so he couldn’t flinch away when Sanghyuk bit down on him. That sweet moment of resistance, before tender skin gave way, and Jaehwan cried out, more in surprise than pain. It was a shallow bite, barely enough to draw proper blood, and it was so hard, to not indulge and let himself sink into Jaehwan further. He was so fucking soft and pliant and desperate for it, squirming in Sanghyuk’s lap, grinding his hips down, searching for friction. 

Sanghyuk tipped his hips up a little, so Jaehwan could rut against him better, against the stiff line of his cock in his jeans. “Oh,” Jaehwan gasped, as Sanghyuk pulled back, letting blood well up in the wounds he’d made. “Fuck, I’m— I—”

“Come for me, hummingbird,” Sanghyuk whispered, biting down again, in a slightly different place, and when Jaehwan flinched and sobbed and faltered, Sanghyuk grabbed his hips and guided him in a rhythm against him, even and unforgiving. 

Jaehwan came with tears sticking his silver lashes together, licking his own blood out of Sanghyuk’s mouth, and Sanghyuk helplessly followed him over the edge. 

—— 

Wonshik, if asked, would not be able to truly say why he was here. He could definitely come up with an excuse, and probably would have to, when Hakyeon eventually questioned him, but that was what it would be: an excuse. The real reason eluded him. He just felt the need to be here, to be close.

There was no snowfall tonight, the sky clear, but there was a fluffy layer of snow on the roof beneath Wonshik’s feet, so he couldn’t sit down, could only crouch. The cold of it wouldn’t bother him, but the dampness would. And he knew he was going to be here for a long time, still and silent, eyes focused on the hunters’ house over the expanse of several backyards. It didn’t give him the best visibility, but from here, he could see Hongbin’s window. He could see when the light of Hongbin’s bedroom flickered on, then off. And if he listened hard enough, he could hear when the sound of Hongbin’s heart slowed with slumber. 

There were other matters that probably needed attending to. But Wonshik had eternity for all of that. He didn’t know how much longer he had this.

The house fell dark and still, for a long time, the neighborhood quiet. Sanghyuk emerged eventually, heading back to their own home, and still Wonshik stayed. He stayed until the stars began to fade, moonlight dimming, in tandem with the lightening sky.

He stayed, until he could not stay any longer.

——

The bell above the shop’s door jingled aggressively as Hongbin left. Outside, the sky glowed golden, the sunlight reflecting sharply off the concrete and snow, and Hongbin brought his free arm up to shade his face from it as he made the short walk to the car. It had been a busy day, and yesterday had been busy too. Meeting strangers, saying goodbye to familiar faces.

Hongbin opened the back door to his little Pontiac, the bundle he’d thrown over his arm crinkling as he grabbed it by the hanger and laid it down on the backseat. It might get a little creased, but they did own an iron. And he did know how to use it, unlike the other two. 

On the floor of the backseat, his work apron lay a bit crumpled— he’d forgotten—

It was too late now. He grabbed it, closing the back door and taking a few short strides to a lamppost, at the base of which sat a fat garbage bin. Hongbin tossed the apron into it, feeling the oddest pang as he did so. But he wasn’t going to fucking keep it, was he. Sentimentality was not his forte.

Then he got into his car and pulled away from the curb, speeding maybe just a little so he would get home before Jaehwan woke up.


End file.
